Distant Commitment
by TuxedoCat42
Summary: Connie had been back home for more than a year, when a murderer from New York began to kill in LA. And with fears that Connie is in danger, Mike is soon in LA and assisting the investigation. However, things were left awkward between them, they have not talked since Connie left, and they slowly try to reconcile their feelings.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's**** Note: **

**Warning: This is my first fic! I'll _try_ to update once a week. I'm still getting a hang of this. ****Thank you DaisyDay for your continued support!**

**I relish in constructive criticism, if you feel so obliged. **

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. **

* * *

**Early morning, May 7, 2013.**

She had spent the last year in LA. It was hard for her to move away from her friends and career in New York City, but her ailing mother needed her care. Since her placement in the Los Angeles District Attorney's office, Connie had adapted pretty well to her new job. However, she could not resist thinking about those late nights when she and Mike would work well into the late hours, pouring over their cases and eating the unhealthiest take-out they could find in the Big Apple. Now, as she sat down, after cleaning throw-up from her mother's trashcan, she would allow herself to think about that life. In her new job, she was working ten to twelve-hour workdays and, then, she would go home to tend to her mother. That routine left her physically exhausted and mentality drained. Her current circumstances left her with no opportunity to socialize outside of the DA's office, and those at work are either gossips or focused exclusively on work, and, in both cases, small talk is the only deviating subject. Consequently, only artificial friendships are built from these feigned rapports. Of course she and Mike had the "working relationship", but they also had something more….

Her reflections on Mike offer an emotional escape—it allowed her to appreciate the different life she used to have. The deep conversations, and the way his blue eyes would pierce her in those twilight hours, still sent chills down her spine. It made her feel...special. As with most nights, her stepfather, José Cruz, entering the house interrupted her reverie and brought her back to the moment in LA.

"Hey", he greeted, pointing up stairs, "How is she? Did she get to sleep?"

"Yeah, just about a half hour ago", Connie responded tiredly, "It was rough, most of the night she couldn't keep anything down—again."

He walked up to her and kissed her on the forehead, "Thanks darling, you can go home and get some rest."

Standing up, she shook her head in protest, "I think I'll just sleep here. Anyway, it's almost five—I'll need to leave for work in a few hours"

"Okay...I just want you to have some space from _this_", he said, gesturing, around them, to the living room that was full of medical items, medications, blankets, and laundry, yet to be folded.

"Na, it's fine…. I folded my laundry earlier, those piles are for you." she teased, as she headed upstairs. "Goodnight."

"Good morning" he replied, chuckling to himself and the mound of laundry.

Connie awoke a few hours later and continued her regular routine: arrive at work 8 AM sharp. Regardless of her personal life, she had to excel in her professional life, and that meant she would arrive early and stay late, until 9 PM (or until her stepfather had to go to work). She _had_ to prove herself to her new bosses and that meant she had to be at the top of her game at _all times_. The one thing that allowed her to maintain her routine was the nap she took during her lunch break. Her uncle managed a hotel a few blocks from her office so, at lunch, she would go to his room, as he also lived there, and sleep for an hour on his couch. Even though she loved her job, she was just, simply, tired. Her zealousness was still there but it had been dampened. The thrill of the courtroom dynamics between the judge, jury, witnesses, and the two opposing sides, had lost her enthusiasm. She trudged through her day. She put so much energy into her work because she recognized that something had to give, she just did not know what, and when it did, she needed her career to endure any rough patch.

* * *

**New York City later that night:**

"Come on, Jack!"

"Mike! Do you know how much money that would cost! Let's see", he said counting on his fingers, "A round trip plane ticket to LA, the hotel expenses, a rental car, and not to mention I would have to arrange for someone to prosecute _your cases_ and that means they would not be performing their duties!", DA Jack McCoy sat at his desk exasperated at his junior district attorney.

"Come on! You don't actually believe this is a coincidence?" Mike Cutter questioned rhetorically, leaning over the chair across from Jack's desk. "After his release he came to see me, Jack, he waited for me at my car! And now, his blood turns up at a murder scene in Los Angeles-he is going after Connie!"

"Their lieutenant in charge as spoken to Lt. Van Buren and I just got off the phone with District Attorney Hardin. With the revelation that Connie had prosecuted Spencer, he assured me that safety precautions are being made for her.", Jack tried to explain, "However, they don't have enough on him to arrest him—legally there were no threats made against her or you."

"He asked me when I last saw her. That is a threat. Especially, if he has been stalking us! And apparently, Spence feels strongly enough that he followed her across the county!"

"It's not enough and you know it!", Jack said, raising his voice.

"What exactly are 'safety precautions'", Mike asked with air quotes, claiming down slightly.

"I don't know, he said he was going to confer further with the police", Jack replied

"Well that's great", Mike was not happy and his sarcasm was pronounced.

"You know, Mike, I have a crazy idea. Why don't you just pick up the phone and call Connie to ask her yourself what the 'safety precautions' are?"

"Don't do that." Mike said in a hard hushed tone, as he turned away and began to pace the room.

"Do what? I would rather pay for the long distance phone bill than a _plane ticket_.", at his plead of innocence, Jack received a glare from Mike.

"I'm the one trying to get approval to go help them catch the bastard!" Mike's retort came out harsher than he intended, but he did not care.

Silence befell the room.

After several minutes, Mike sat down across from his elder and propositioned him, "Okay. Okay. So you don't want to pay the expenses, then I will. I will pay for the airplane ticket, lodging, car rental-everything. And I will use my vacation time, so my absence would not technically be made at the expense of this office."

Jack stared at him for a moment, leaned in against his desk, and asked, "What's the catch?"

"Nothing, other than I would like for you to tell our counter parts in LA, that I'll be there on your orders. Especially Hardin, I need him to work with me while I'm there, if he doesn't, at the very least, accept me, I would be stonewalled by everyone…. Put simply, you send me on 'official business', I pay the tab, and don't get paid.", Mike emphasized his last sentence.

They intensely stared at each other. Jack had a nondescript look on his face, but Mike knew he was internally weighing his decision.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes."

Slightly unconvinced, Mike lent back in his chair, "So, you'll talk to Hardin and get all of that worked out?"

Jack mirrored Mike in leaning back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, "Yes, Mike, I want her to be safe just as much as you, but I can't use this office's resources to protect a DA on the other side of the country who doesn't even work for me. That is Hardin and the LAPD's responsibility, now, she is out of my jurisdiction." Jack had completely changed his demeanor, he was quite softer. Mike knew it was because Jack had a strong paternal instinct when it came to Connie, as they worked closely together for several years. Jack had great professional respect for Connie, which was mutual, and his personal respect for her grew immensely when she decided to up root her career and move to take care of her ailing mother.

Jack continued, "Hardin owes me a _big _favor, I think I can get him to swallow a bit of his pride and temporally welcome, well, tolerate you".

"Then", Mike said, standing up and walking back around the chair, "I'll leave first thing tomorrow morning."

"It's almost midnight, Mike, I bet all the flights are booked for the morning", Mike turned slightly but did not make eye contact. "You already bought a ticket, didn't you?"

Mike turned to him, gave him a cleaver smile, and shrugged, "I figured, if I was prepared to take my vacation time, and pay my own expenses, I could go without your authorization. However, I held out for your support because I wanted the official backing of this office….And, you know, I kind of hoped that I wouldn't have to wipe myself out paying for everything."

Jack bounced back in his office chair and smirked, "You know, I can technically deny your vacation request because you didn't give me a week notice."

Mike's face fell slightly, "But you wouldn't do that…."

"No I wouldn't, because I think there is a better chance of Spencer being caught and nailed to the wall, if you were assisting them. I want Connie safe—regardless of jurisdiction. I would go myself, if I could", he stated quite simply. Mike nodded knowingly and Jack continued, "I was just about to call her before you came in, since you're so opposed to the phone, would you like me to tell her that you're coming, or could you get over your phobia long enough to?"

Walking around the office, Mike found a law-book on Jack's book self to divert his attrition. He picked at the cover but did not grab it, "Don't you think it's kind of late?"

"Time difference, Mike, it's only nine there."

"Oh, yeah. That's fine, go ahead. I'll see her tomorrow", suddenly wanting to leave he grabbed his suit jacket, "I should get going. My flight is at six and I still have to pack and grab a few hours of sleep before…", he trailed off.

"Okay, have a safe flight.", Jack said, as Mike began to leave, "And, Mike, be careful", the younger man was silent, but nodded in response, before he disappeared through the office door.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Alright, this is canon... but I took liberties with dates and (later on) Connie's family. I believe in an episode of L&O:LA, it was said that she had a stepfather so... I went with that.**

******Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.**

* * *

**Los Angeles same night:**

Connie's head was spinning and she could not sleep. Since that morning when she arrived at work, so much had happened. A man's, Kyle Spencer, fingerprint that she and Mike had successfully prosecuted, almost 5 years ago, had shown up at a homicide in _her_ jurisdiction. At first she thought, or rather wanted to believe, it was a _huge _coincidence. However, that optimism was quickly squashed when Hardin informed her that he had spoken to Jack, and he said Spencer had threatened "the first chair on the case, Mike Cutter", only weeks earlier. He was rather vague on what was said in the encounter, and only knew that Mike was not harmed, and that it happened at night in the parking garage at the DA's office. In accordance with that event and Spencer's fresh bloody print at a crime scene, Hardin, in conjunction with Lt. Gonzales, gave her a protection detail, which was currently sitting outside her apartment. Even though she was too busy with work to take a nap during her lunch break, she could not sleep. It was not only the possibility of her life being threatened that kept her awake, no, it was the call she had just received from Jack that was causing her insomnia. He told her that he was sending Mike to assist them in their investigation into Spencer. She was shocked, she could not assent or dissent—as matter of fact, she could not remember what her response to him was. Right now, all she could think about was the night that she and Mike spent together the weekend before she had left New York.

* * *

**_Flashback:_**

_September 17, 2011 _

She had put off telling him, she did not want to spend two weeks saying goodbye. She did not want to draw it out, she knew he would be...affected. And she could not watch him pretend to be okay for two weeks. This was clean, it would not hurt as much if he only had a few days to think about it….Or at least she hoped. It was Friday and her flight to LA was scheduled for the following Monday, right after closing arguments for the Kingston trial. He needed to know today, he deserved more than to be told on Monday. Getting up from her desk she headed towards his office, she would ask him out for drinks after work and tell him then. The knocking on his door made him look up from his desk, he was on the phone. Connie saw that Mike had the biggest smile on his face when he waved her in.

_"Oh great!"_, she sarcastically said to herself,_ "He's happy! I'm about to ruin a perfectly good_ day…_._"

As she sat down across from him she caught the end of his conversation, "Are you kidding me! That will not be a problem", he insisted a little loud and visibly excited, "Look you had this coming, after all those times you fell though. Yep. Look, I've got to go. Yeah, bye." He turned his attention to Connie, "Do you know what are in my hands?" he asked her, enthusiastically, while holding two small pieces of paper.

"Well, if your demeanor is any indication, I would say the contents of the Ark of the Covenant."

He laughed as he walked around to her side of the desk.

"These", he said, through his smile, holding up two small pieces of paper, "Are two tickets to the Yankee-Mets game tomorrow night at Yankee Stadium!"

His smile was infectious, "That's great, Mike! How? I thought that they were impossible to get."

"Ah, _virtually_ impossible. You know that last night I played poker with some old friends from law school. Well, one of them had gotten them from a friend who couldn't go, and that cocky bastard thought he couldn't lose!", he was very animated.

"Well, I wouldn't know anyone like that…."

"I'm going to let that slide," he said pointing at her.

Just then, Jack poked his head in the room, "What's all the commotion about?"

"I've got two tickets to the Yankee-Mets game tomorrow."

"Wow. Who are we going to have to prosecute you for killing to get those?," Jack jested.

"Funny. Nether of your snide comments will ruin this." Mike said, looking between Connie and Jack.

"Do you know who you're taking?", Jack questioned.

"I just got them, I haven't asked yet. But don't worry, Jack, you're my second choice."

"Oh, no! Count me out, Mike," Jack stated gleefully, "My granddaughter has school play tomorrow night and I would not miss it for the world - or a Yankee-Mets game."

"I feel sorry for you."

"Oh, Mike. Your day will come!," Jack laughed, as he started to leave his junior DAs. But he stopped short of the door, "Oh, there was a reason I came in here. I need the briefs on the last of the Woll appeals, tonight."

That invoked two "What!"s in unison.

"I've got paper work to but I can't do mine without yours… I'm sorry if you had plans.", Jack paused to let them process, "I'll see you guys later."

After Jack left Mike turned back to Connie, unsure whether he should ask her now or wait until they are walking to their cars.

He had stared a bit long at her when it occurred to him that Connie must have come to see him for a reason, "Um…Did you have something to talk to me about?"

Knocking her out of her thoughts, "Yeah."

"Okay," he said, sitting back behind his desk, "Which case?"

"Well…It's not a case," she was clearly hesitant, "Um…I was just going to ask you to drinks after work, but any potential of that has just been squashed."

"Okay, so instead, we can order-in," by her visible uneasiness, he felt there was more.

"Well, actually, I needed to talk to you about something…personal. Since we've got so much work to do, it wouldn't be a good time."

All of his excitement, sunk very low into his stomach. He knew something had been going on the last few weeks: she had several-closed door meetings with Jack and did not mention the why, and she had become more distant.

Now she was going to let him in, "Well, I didn't know when was a good time to ask you this but…. Would you like to go with me tomorrow?", his face turned flushed, as he asked.

"Me?," she asked, surprised.

"Yeah. If you're not busy, of course. That way we can, also, talk about…whatever you wanted to talk about, since we won't have work."

She did not know how to respond, she did not want to ruin his special day, but she really needed to talk with him, "Okay", she hesitantly agreed.

* * *

**The next day:**

He arrived at three o' clock sharp and waited for her at his car.

He met her at the passenger side door, "Where's your baseball cap?"

"Um...I don't have one."

"What! That's un-American!"

"Sorry, Mike, but I haven't been to a baseball game in over twenty years—I think I was fifteen."

"What? I know that you're not the closest follower of sports, but come on!"

She shrugged her shoulders in response, as he opened the car door for her.

As they sat down in their seats, Connie was able to admire Mike, in what seemed to be his natural habitat. Even though he was just wearing a plain t-shirt and jeans, Connie could not keep her eyes off him. In the four years they had been partners, she had only seen him out of his work clothes a hand full of times. His t-shirt allowed her to see more of _him_ that he normally hid in underneath his suits, and it was having a great effect on her concentration.

"Connie? You still there?," he asked, with a grin.

"Um...Yes," she replied, embarrassed that he caught her staring.

"Would you like a beer and hot dog?", he asked, as the grounds crew was preparing the field in between innings.

"Sure."

"Alright, I'll go get us some.", she turned to watch him go, but a pang of guilt overcame her and she turned back.

**Later:**

"Noo, I can't see.", she exclaimed, while trying to block the sun, so she could watch a home run go over the back wall.

"That is what a baseball cap is for!," he exclaimed, placing his cap on her head, "SEE."

"I do now, thank you. I just always thought they were for bad hair days on leisure days.", she turned to him and smiled.

As they continued to watch the game, Mike volunteered, "You know, my grandfather took me to my first baseball game when I was six."

"Really?"

"Yeah…", Mike continued to tell her about how he became interested in baseball and how his late grandfather influenced him. During this time, neither of them were particularly paying attrition to the game. So, when a pop fly flew up, Mike and Connie were so engrossed in their conversation, that they did not notice until everyone around them was screaming "heads up!" Mike looked up just in time to see the ball crashing down right on him. He instinctively moved his hands to cover his head.

Thud.

The ball hit him on his left forearm. There was complete silence from those around him. For a brief moment, he was in shock, not able to hear the whole of the stadium or Connie next to him.

"Mike! Oh, God. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think so…."

"Is it broken?"

"I don't think so—I don't know. I can't feel it", his demeanor was rather clam for someone who was just hit with the force of a baseball. He moved he fingers. Good sign.

"Mike, we should probably get that looked at."

"No, it's fine.", he insisted, cringing.

A guy, about twenty years old, in Mets memorabilia walked up to them presenting the ball, "Are you all right, man?"

"Yeah, but I think it'll leave a bruise."

"I would say. We could hear it hit six rows down. I...just thought that this belonged to you."

Mike nodded his head, still slightly dazed, "Thank you, I appreciate it." As Mike was cradling his slightly bloodied arm in his other hand, the man gave the ball to Connie.

"Thank You," she repeated to him.

After the Game, when they were leaving the stadium, Mike suggested they take a walk in a nearby park.

"Are you sure? You should probably get ice on that"

"Na, let's go."

As they entered the park, Mike inquired, "So who took you to your last baseball game, when you were fifteen?"

"My stepfather. Um… he took me, my brother and sister. He and my mother had just gotten engaged and my mom thought it would be a good opportunity for us to bond." Her demeanor suddenly stiffened when she mentioned her family—it reminded them both that she _needed to talk to him_. However, awkwardly, she began to laugh, "You know what, he loves baseball, and I am sure he will see that instant replay tonight!"

"Geez…that's great. Well, I hope he at least notices the beautiful woman who came to my aid," he said, examining his hurt arm.

Ignoring his compliment, she continued, "My stepfather may be a bit more obsessed with baseball than you."

"Being a fan, does not make one obsessed. ' Obsessed' has a bad connotation."

"Sure, whatever. My point is that he is very well versed in sabermetrics"

"Really?"

"Yes, he absolutely _obsessed_ with baseball statistics"

"I like him already!"

They soon approached a bench and sat down. It was a beautiful, cool, September evening and the sun was beginning to set.

"Mike", she breathed his name in such a tone that caused him to brace himself. He nodded for her to continue.

"It's my mother - she's worse... The cancer isn't in remission anymore, actually, it spread, and she is going to have half of a lung removed before she will be able to start Chemo again.", her voice began to crack at the end.

He had absolutely no idea what to say or do. Her coffee brown eyes were glassy when she looked to him for a response.

"My stepfather needs more help with her…and she…I don't know." Mike released his hurt arm, and using his good arm, he grabbed Connie's hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze. She did not look up until she began talking again a few moments later, "I'm going back to LA, Mike. I've got a job there in the DA's office." She felt him tense, "I start there Wednesday". Her tears were falling now, and when she looked at him, his blue eyes had turned dark with sadness.

After a while, he took her home. He walked her up, as they were not done talking.

"Well, I guess I know, now, why you didn't want me to come up earlier", her apartment was empty except for a couch and a few items on the floor.

"I'm sorry.", she did not know what to say, other than apologize.

He stood in the middle of her apartment with his good hand in jeans' pocket.

She struggled," I wish you would say something."

He was motionless, "Say what?"

"I don't know, more than that…. This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do!"

"I know, which is why there is nothing for me to say.", he locked eyes with her, there was pain in her eyes that he could not bear. He walked to her and gathered her in an embrace. After a moment, he pulled back slightly and crested her check to clear some of her tears. She looked in his eyes and they were sorrowful. She lent forwards, suddenly wanting more of his warmth, his smell…of him. Their kiss was like nothing she had felt, as though a kind of electricity was surging through her… it quickly deepened. She had one arm wrapped around his back, pulling him close, while her other hand played with his hair. His bad hand gently rested on the small of her back, while his good hand was tangled in her hair. Connie slid her hand into the inside of his shirt and began to push him towards the couch.

"Connie", he said pulling away, "We can't…"

Since she would not meet his eyes, he tried to lift her chin to face him—but she would not allow it.

"I think it would be best for you to go", she pulled away, completely out of his grasp.

He was stunned. Things turned from hot to cold quick.

"I'll see you at work, Monday," she said, coolly.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?"

She nodded her head in response and brought herself to look him in the eyes. His blue's were still dark and sad, but, now, full of desire. It affected her but he was right, it had to stop.

"Yes, I'll be fine.", she wiped her tears.

"Alright", he hesitated before he left, "I'll see you Monday."

* * *

**Present Time:**

Connie laid awake regretting how she left things… Mike had called her the day after that night, but she did not pick up—his message said he "just wanted to talk". The Kingston closing arguments were in the morning, and when they met at the courthouse, both of them pretended like Saturday night did not happen. Back at the office, everyone had planned a surprise going away party. Lt. Van Buren, Detectives Lupo and Barnard, also, joined the DA's office to say their goodbyes. As the party was ending, towards the end of the lunch break, Mike was called away, looking back now, she was not sure why. Nothing made sense to her: she tried to remember why she left without talking to him - she could tell that he wanted a proper farewell. Why did she leave a note? A note. After five years of working together, all she did was leave a note. She knew, she probably hurt him…but she was scared. That Saturday night made her fearful of a _goodbye_.

She reflected on seeing him tomorrow, "_He probably was, probably is, pissed with me. But he's coming, however, on Jack's orders. I'm sure he has moved on, pass that night by now…."_

* * *

**A/N: Please review. I would even appreciate anonymous one-worded reviews. "Good", "bad", "great", "horrible", are all welcomed responses. "Cat", "Dog", "42", are fine - it does not have to make sense. Seriously, it doesn't even have to be in English! Klingon,**** Galactic Basic****, **Parseltongue,** and Pig Latin are all applicable (Also, anything that Google can translate****). :)**

**(********Disclaimer: I still own absolutely nothing.)**

**I'll try to post again next week. Mike will arrive in LA. **


	3. Chapter 3

**May 8, 2013 the following morning:**

Mike stared out at the impressive blue sky-it seemed boundless and yet fastened around the plane. He was fighting with himself, he wanted to look at it but could not bring himself to. It has been in his wallet, tucked behind his driver's license, since that day. He knew that reading the note again would not do any good—especially since, he was going to see her.

That was more than a year ago. The past is in the past.

He pulled out his wallet to examine his last form of communication with Connie.

"Mike,

I'm sorry.

Connie"

_"What was she sorry for?"_ Mike internally ruminated, "_Having to Leave or leaving without talking to me first?"_. He had wondered about the meaning of her note incessantly since she left. Everything was happening too fast, he could not think straight. Ever since Spencer's DNA was found in LA, he had spent all of his time trying to persuade Jack to authorize his trip, he had forgot to think about what to do once he got there. Mike did not know how behave with Connie. They used to have a great partnership but, he knew, that their kiss and her leaving without saying goodbye, complicated everything between them. It still stung more than a year later. He had only walked away for a moment but when he returned to her party, Jack told him she had already left. Regardless, he would not fault her for leaving to take care of her mother, but it hurt that she left without a word. Now, he hopped on a plane, to fly across the country, at a moment's notice to protect her. Mike did not know what that said about him. But he wanted some kind of closure—even if it meant walking into her new life, where she may be living happily with her family, job, and, perhaps, a boyfriend.

He tried to distance himself from his emotions, _"The purpose of this trip is to catch a criminal, not to rehash something that never was,—in the process I may catch up with an old friend but that is it"._

* * *

**Los Angeles Police Department:**

After passing through the metal detectors, Mike approached the front desk of the large department.

"Hello, I'm Mike Cutter with the Manhattan District Attorney's Office. I'm looking for Detective Ricardo Morales," the officer at the front desk did not look impressed.

"He is expecting you?"

"Yes.", Mike replied, and mentally banged is head, _"Oh, this is going to take a while"._

"What division?" he asked, while he started to click around on his computer.

"Homicide"

The officer took a large breath and sighed.

A bald man in a suit came from behind, "Hey Jimmy, I've got this. I've been expecting him and already processed him through security." He pushed a clipboard to Mike, "Just sign this for your security badge."

Mike signed it and the detective handed the clipboard to the officer behind the desk, "Thanks, Jim. See you later."

He began to lead Mike through crowds of people to the elevators, "I take it you're Detective Morales?"

He laughed a bit, "No, I'm his partner Tomas Jaruszalski. We give people his name so they don't have to try to pronounce mine to the front desk".

Mike laughed a bit in response, and stuck his hand out, "Oh, well nice to meet you Detective Jaruszalski", he said the name slowly.

"Nice to meet you too, but please call me TJ.", they shook hands.

"Gladly"

Once upstairs, they entered a conference room that had files helplessly scattered around and a whiteboard with case information posted on it.

A man walked in behind them and introduced himself as Detective Morales, "It's nice to meet you, Mike. Connie has told a lot about you."

"Oh", he replied, slightly surprised.

"Yeah, she had come up with a, let's say, creative scheme for getting evidence excluded from a trial and when I asked her how she came up with it she said had learned it from her old boss."

Mike's face showed a bit of confusion and was about to ask when Morales further explained, "I was a Deputy D.A.—we were partners for almost a year when she first got here."

"Oh, so you left prosecuting to become a detective?"

"Well, I went back to being a detective. Back decades ago, I went to law school at night and worked as a police officer during the day until I reached the DA's office. However, I found myself several months ago hearing the badge call me name. So here I am".

"Morales and I", TJ began, when they paused in conversation, "thought that we would brief you on our case here and when Connie gets here, we thought we would go over your old case from New York."

"Sure, sounds good." Mike paused, and tried to be nonchalant, "When is she going to be here?", but his mouth went dry, and he shifted a bit too uncomfortably.

"She said she had court until eleven, if you don't mind we were planning on working through lunch—it's TJ's turn to buy.", Morales replied.

"Na", Mike said, taking off his suit jacket to throw over his chair, "That's fine with me."

They did not have much to go on. Their case rested on Kyle Spencer's bloody fingerprint found at a murder scene of one his colleagues. Robert White, the victim, was killed in his own kitchen with one of the kitchen knives. A blot of Spencer's blood was found on the underside of the kitchen sink faucet and they were able to left a print in that area also. He claimed that he had cut his finger on a knife the night before the murder, at a party the victim held in his house and that was how his print ended up by the sink. In addition, they could not find a motive for Spencer wanting White dead. Mike was frustrated at the lack of evidence. He had hoped they had a stronger case than this, but had no right to voice his frustrations because the lack of evidence was almost identical to his case in New York. And things managed to be worse, Morales told Mike that when Spencer came to the station for questioning he and Connie bumped into each other in the hall. Although, Morales said, Spencer did not explicitly threaten her, the look that he gave her was unnerving.

* * *

**Later:**

_"Why is my heart beating this fast? It's just Mike….",_ she wondered, as she got off the elevator and walked into the squad room. She immediately stopped in her tracks and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. She saw him through the conference room window. He was standing at the white board, pointing at crime scene photos, and talking to TJ, who was sitting down.

"You know, the door isn't locked. You can go in.", a voice from behind made her jump.

Trying to recover from being startled, she said, "Ricardo, you scared me. Do me a favor and don't sneak up on people who have murders after them, from now on."

"Sorry about that, I had just taken the bell off my neck so the guys at the deli didn't think I was weird.", Morales joked in his response. Because they had worked together long enough at the DA's office, he knew that she would appreciate his humor at a tense time.

She laughed and, then, there was an awkward silence between the two. He could clearly see that something was off with her, but he did not believe that it (at this particular time) was the threat from Spencer.

"What do you say, we go and have some lunch?", he gestured, holding up the bags of food. As he walked in front of her, he threw over his back, "and you can ogle more at your old boss—up close".

He was already opening the door to the conference room, and declaring, "Look who I found", when she yelled at him, "Shut up!"

Over his booming voice, it was hard to hear her outside the room—but they could all the same.

Mike froze, _"My God, she looks beautiful. She let her hair grow out….",_ he inwardly reflected.

She greeted him, "It's great to see a friendly face, Mike."

"It's great to see you too.", he gave her a smile to match her own.

They stared at each other for a long moment that caused TJ and Morales to observe them.

It had been too long since she had seen his piercing blue eyes, and she suddenly felt lightheaded. Connie took a hold of a chair to act as though it was her intention to sit down.

Connie and Mike sat across from another, each trying not to act too obvious in their respective draw to another.

"So, if you guys thought that your murder five years ago was premeditated, what caused the negligent homicide charge?", TJ inquired, trying to end the awkward pause.

"Not enough evidence," Connie stated, "We believe that he killed his wife in their home but he scrubbed the place completely clean by the time we could get a warrant it search it. Then some of the evidence we did have was thrown out on a technicality…. Our case was weak for a murder one charge: we didn't have a crime scene or murder weapon. This guy represents organized crime and gang members, he knows how to clean up a murder scene."

"So what did you have?," inquired Morales.

Mike jumped in, "We had motive: his wife was going to leave him—Spencer's own sister was going to be our star witness and testify to that. His alibi changed a couple of times: at first, he was with a client, and our detectives could not verify that because attorney client privilege prevented him from giving identifying his client. That is until his firm heard of his alibi, then, to cover their asses; they told us that he was not working that night. Then the final story was that he was having a drink, alone, in a bar that didn't have a security camera and he paid cash. Also, knife set in his kitchen was missing a blade that matched his wife's stab wounds—that of course was circumstantial", he said, aggravated.

"Did he threaten you guys at all during the trail?", TJ questioned, the former partners.

"No", Connie answered, "he was actually pleased about the plea deal because the bar only temporarily suspended his license with the negligent homicide charge, rather than the permanent suspension he would have faced with the first degree murder. Considering the fact that he did get the New York Bar to reinstate him and now he is licensed here in California, he was right to be so happy with deal."

"Well", Mike spoke carefully, "Aside from his plea deal, he was particularly upset with Connie because she was the one who talked his sister into testifying against him about his marital problems." His eyes glanced from TJ to Morales before landing on Connie. She found it uncomfortable to return his gaze because his eyes were full of concern and apprehension.

"We didn't know that. What exactly did he do—was there a specific action that he made towards you?," Morales asked, turning to Connie.

"I didn't think that it was a big deal," she replied, defensively.

"Would you let us, who is supposed to protecting you from this murder who traveled almost 3000-miles to a city you happened to live in, decide if it's a big deal," Morales was exasperated.

She shot Mike an unconformable glance before responding, "He had a private detective follow and investigate me." There was a pause before she continued, "He gave some information about my personal life to the defense council in a different case to try to get me removed from a separate case-his plan, we believed, was to taint my credibility. However, he failed and after his trial, he said quote 'I will see you again'. It was less than scary at the time…."

"But now it seems problematic", Morales finished.

She shrugged conceding.

"What about his finances?", TJ asked.

"There were some discrepancies between his income and assets. He had at least double the amount of assets than his income or investments.", Connie answered.

"Double?"

"Yeah, it's hard to believe but we saw the expenses they had—I think there was something like 10 vacation homes in three continents.", Mike piped in, "In addition, he spent almost half a million dollars on high-end prostitutes every week. Mrs. Spencer's dog had its own condo upper Manhattan, worth at least three million."

"You've got to be kidding. Did he disclose this extra income on taxes?", Morales asked, in disbelief.

"Yeah, according the IRS, the millions of dollars, came from a secondary income from consulting work. And we traced the money back to the Cayman Islands, where the trail went cold."

Before anyone could respond, Connie's cellphone vibrated.

"I have to get to court.", she said, standing up to gather her things. Mike politely stood up with her and watched her pack.

She turned to him, "Do you still have the same cellphone number?"

"Yes," he said, nodding his head.

"Alright, so do I", she smiled at him, a little unsure, "I'll, umm, call you later, maybe we can catch up."

"Yeah.", he responded a bit too quickly.

She curtly nodded to the detectives, "Let me know if anything comes up."

"Will do.", Morales said.

Mike watched her leave.

* * *

**Later: LA Courthouse, 6:30 PM:**

Mike, TJ, and Morales walked through the courthouse corridors. They were looking for Connie, as she was supposed to be in court. They found Dekker talking to a lawyer in the hallway but no Connie. Dekker cut his conversation with the lawyer short so he could join the trio.

"Mike, it's good to see you again.", Dekker said, as he reached to shake Mike's hand.

"Yeah, it's good to see you too.", Mike returned his gesture.

"Where is Connie?", Morales inquired.

"Well, we were discussing a plea deal with Mr. Wood, but she got a phone call and snuck off a little while ago."

"Do you know where she went?"

"My guess would be around the corner. I don't think she'll be that hard to find with this place practically empty and, you know, the police escort is pretty conspicuous."

"Yeah.", Morales agreed, as they began to walk.

The four of them came upon Connie and her protection detail in an adjacent hallway. Because she was on the phone, she had taken some distance from the police officers in the empty hallway, near a large window.

The four of them tried to give her distance, but they could still hear her side of the conversation.

"If you left now, you could still make it to Mom and Dad's before he has to leave for work. Oh, I don't know…" frustration and sarcasm was clear in her voice, "Either until we catch the guy or he kills me, whichever is first. Well, I'm not joking. I'm not sure what in the hell your problem is, I'm just asking for a little bit of help. Look, this is temporary and you have the time off at work. It's not like I'm asking you to quit your job and move your ass up here."

At that statement, Mike suddenly felt his stomach drop, for the last year he thought about how well she must like LA with her good position at the DA's office, being close to her family, the fantastic weather, beaches, and the countless men at the ready to enjoy these with her—assuming that her mother was all right. He had asked Jack a few times how her mother was doing but each time he said "there hasn't been much change but she sounds strong". Recently, Mike just assumed her mother was fine because Jack had not said otherwise.

"Well, you're making this more difficult than necessary.", At this point, she began to move around in her agitation, and she spotted the four men waiting for her down the hall. "All right then. Look, I need to go. Yes. Please and think you. Bye."

She wished that they had not heard that, but she was not going to let on that she was fazed.

She turned around with her head held high, "Did something come up?"

"Yeah", TJ said, following along with her, he held up a picture, "Do you recognize this man?"

After staring at it for a moment, she looked back at them, "No, Should I?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Mike, TJ, and Morales looked disappointed.

"Who is he?", she said looking at them.

"His name is Sean Greene. We're not sure of his connection to Spencer.", Morales explained.

"Okay, why should I know him?"

"Well, you shouldn't, really. ", TJ hesitated before handing her a list of the guy's parking violations, "He's gotten three parking tickets within a one block radius of your apartment and two here at the courthouse in a six week period."

Connie examined the list, and froze. "My parents' street address is on here. This last ticket is on my parents' street.", she said, giving TJ back the paper.

"Okay then", Morales began, unsure what to say, "We will increase patrols in their area. But until this is over it may be best for you to stay in a hotel."

"I don't think so. I'm not going to stay with my parents—my brother and sister will take care of that—but I'm not not going to go home.", she retorted firmly.

Morales tried again, "It may be best, they clearly know where you live."

"I don't care, I'm not going to run. I'm not going to hide from this passive aggressive game that this bastard is playing.", Connie was resolute.

"Connie, if you were a witness against this guy like this, we would put you in protective custody in a hotel under an assumed name", Dekker tried to reason.

She just shook her head, "I know, Joe. But I want to sleep in my own bed. I am not going to let this guy manipulate my life—that is what he wants."

"Alright then, we'll arrange everything—I'm also going to double you protection detail", Morales said, giving up.

Dekker's phone beeped, looking at it he said, "Sorry, I have to go—dinner with my wife and daughter. Call me if you need anything.", he sincerely told Connie.

She nodded her head, not quite in the mood to vocalize a response.

"We've got to get going too", Morales gestured between him and TJ, "We're going to help canvas the park area again and search for the murder weapon".

TJ turned to Mike, "I take it you don't want to join us?"

"No thanks."

The three departed for the elevators and left Mike and Connie alone, except for her security detail. They stood awkwardly across from another, neither knowing what to say.

Mike started, "This is a nice courthouse".

"Yeah, all of the windows are great. It's a lot less dark than…New York's".

There was another awkward pause, as they both pretended to study the architecture of the corridor.

Connie abruptly asked, "Would you like to go to dinner?"

Mike stared at her for a moment trying process what she said.

"Sure", he answered, hesitantly.

* * *

_Please review. _


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: My apologies, it took me a while to get this posted and it is really short. When I went to edit this for posting, I didn't like half of it in context of what I have written for later chapters, so I had to rewrite it. This is a unusually short chapter. I wanted them to have dinner and get over the awkwardness of seeing each other again, but this was too long to be put with chapter 3 or 5, therefore, short chapter 4. **

* * *

"I'm not sure this is such a good idea", Mike insisted, as they sat down.

"I'm not going to stop living my life, Mike", Connie replied.

The Italian restaurant a few blocks from Connie's apartment was mostly empty, since the work crowd cleared.

The waiter immediately came and took their orders, "Thank you, I'll have it out to you shortly."

Mike started, "It's good to see you, Connie. I just wish it was under different circumstances".

"Yeah, Mike, it's good to see you too", she paused and met his eyes. "I'm glad Jack sent you out here. Coming out here to LA is very expensive. He used to give us so much grief about ordering Chinese—I can't believe he allocated that much money."

Mike broke her gaze, nodded his head, and mumbled an agreement.

They made small talk until their food came, and then they began to talk about the case.

"I can't believe the parole board allowed him to move to California," Mike said, clearly bothered.

"Humanitarian reasons, Mike, his father is ailing and Spencer is his only child", Connie stated flatly. "Ironic", Connie added, taking a drink of wine, her voice was low, and Mike almost did not hear her.

"What I can't believe is that the California Bar gave him a license and one of the best criminal law practices in the country hired him!", she, too, was clearly frustrated, "He was convicted of killing his wife-albeit for manslaughter, but everyone knows what he did."

"Well, he is one of the country's best criminal defense attorneys and he suddenly became unemployed."

They continued to talk and have drinks after their meal.

"So, um, how's your mother?", Mike asked.

"She is doing okay", she said, staring down at her second glass of wine. "She just finished her last round of chemo, her treatment was delayed for a while because of an infection, but the doctors are optimistic. We're waiting on some test to see if she's in remission."

"That's good", he replied. Looking up at her from his drink, "And", he hesitated, "How are you?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Her eyes met his gaze but she found his stare overwhelming and turned back to her drink. There was something different in his eyes, something, that made her heart race. The lighting was dim in the restaurant since the sun had gone down. Her quickened pulse had to be the result of the candles strategically placed on every table, she thought, because it gave him a soft reflection. She knew he had overheard her conversation with her sister, and she knew that her comment about her sister's help being temporary made her sound bitter, but she was simply worn-out.

"I'm good", she said, trying to give him a reassuring smile, but it did not reach her eyes.

He continued to stare at her—wanting more.

"Things have been…difficult. Between balancing taking care of my mother and work, but I've made it work."

"Doesn't your brother and sister help much?", he further inquired.

"Sure", she took a drink of wine, "but Carlos and his wife are expecting and they already have three kids. He does what he can, but he is very busy with being a father." She paused before continuing, "Maria, well, she lives in San Diego and we haven't seen her in a while".

"Oh," Mike replied, not really wanting to pry too much into her private life.

Connie regretted that he had overheard her on the phone with her sister. She knew that she had come off sounding bitter, but things were complicated and she did not want Mike to think she was resentful.

"She moved to San Diego to get away from an abusive relationship, a little over five years ago, but she has only been back here a handful of times since…. She's been trying to distance herself from the life she had here—try to forget it", Connie paused again, gave Mike an uncomfortable smile, and tried to change the subject. "So how are things at work, Bureau Chief?"

"Well, it's good…. There's a lot more administrative work so I don't spend as much time in court—I miss that."

"I can't imagine what it took for Jack to get you to take a job where you weren't spending the majority of your time in court."

He shifted in his chair and turned his gaze down to his scotch.

A small impish smile crept across his lips, and he looked back up at her, "Why are you asking a question that you apparently know the answer to?"

"Never ask a question that you don't know the answer to. And I didn't ask a question."

"Yeah, it was in the subtext."

Connie sat waiting for him to say something more.

"We just had some fundamental disagreements", he finally answered.

"Fundamental disagreements", she repeated, incredulously, "You had significant fundamental disagreements with three different ADAs."

He sipped his drink and stifled a small laugh, "Three, is that what you heard?"

"Yes. So just how many were there?"

"Four"

Connie laughed, "Jack didn't tell me that…. So what were the 'fundamental disagreements' that caused you to go through four assistants?"

"You know how things are, differing opinions and all."

"So you did something like pimp them out to a jury", she jested.

Mike studied her, unsure whether she would joke about that, "As you have just pointed out, I'm not the easiest to get along with."

"Cop out"

"Yeah, so."

She started to laugh, "You know, I don't understand Jack's train of thought: They won't work with him, so force them to work under him."

He laughed, "Thanks, that means a lot."

"Anytime"

"So you and Jack talk to each other a lot?"

She smiled at his not so subtle change of subject, "Yes, we do."

"Really?"

"Yeah, we email and usually talk on the phone every week or so."

"Really?", Mike repeated, surprised.

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"He…just didn't mention anything about talking to you so often."

"Yeah, well. We talk quite a bit", she replied flatly breaking his gaze, hoping he would drop it.

The question in Mike's eyes unsettled Connie, because she knew why Jack did not tell Mike about their communications. From the day that Connie left, Jack could tell it affected Mike and drove him further into work. He tried to get Connie to contact Mike and, after a few months, she started to rebuffed any of Jack's inquiry into their problems, so he eventually quit asking.

She looked at her watch, "I think it would be a good idea for us to get going. It's getting late and I've got court in the morning"

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea"

They paid and walked back to their respective cars. Mike walked Connie to her car door where they stopped.

He smiled at her and began to step away from her, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Mike", she put her hand on his forearm to stop him.

He looked to her to begin speaking.

"Mike…", she retracted her arm and lowered her voice, "I'm sorry…about how I left things…."

"Don't be. Your family needed you", he quickly dismissed her.

"No, Mike, not just for leaving, but for the way I left—I ran from you, I should have said goodbye. You deserve better than that, and I am really sorry," she forced herself to meet his eyes, "If I hurt you-"

"No, Connie", he cut her off, "It's fine, I understand."

"That's good because I don't", Connie spoke quickly. She took a step back from him, and swallowed hard, "Are we good?"

"Yeah, we're good", he, too, spoke quickly, in his nerves.

"I don't want this to be awkward..."

"Me neither."

"Okay, then I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you", He nodded his head, looked down at his shuffling feet, took a hard swallow, and walked away.

* * *

**Please Review. **


	5. Chapter 5

**The Next Morning: May 9, 2013:**

Mike sat down in the conference room with his fresh cup of coffee. He stared at all of the pictures and papers they had scattered around the room. He tried to think about the case but his mind kept wondering to Connie. He could not concentrate-it was a mess. He placed his elbows on the table and rubbed his eyes.

"Mike!", Morales poked his head in the door, "Don't get too comfortable, the victim's wife is with TJ in the conference room down the hall." He held up a cup of coffee gesturing down the hall.

"I thought she was in D.C. on business and couldn't get a flight out."

Morales shrugged, "Guess that changed."

The widow, a professionally dressed woman, was sitting across from TJ visibly upset, wiping her eyes.

TJ introduced them, "Mrs. White, these are my colleagues Detective Morales and Mike Cutter".

"We're very sorry for your loss, Mrs. White", Morales consoled, as he gave her the cup of coffee.

"Thank you."

TJ continued, "Had your husband had any problems or disagreements with anybody recently? "

She stiffed a laugh, "He is…was a lawyer, it was an innate trait for him to be in disagreements."

"Was there any particular disagreements that stood out from others?"

She shook her head, "Just work problems".

Morales piped in, "Any work problems in particular?"

She shifted in her chair and stared into her coffee, "No", she answered curtly.

"Now, if you don't mind", she said standing up, "I need to get going. Our son was touring colleges and his flight will be arriving shortly. So, I need to get going."

The trio stood with her "Of course, ma'am. But please call if you can think of anything else", TJ handed her his card.

"Thanks", she nodded.

"This officer will show you out", TJ said ushering her to a uniform officer in the hallway.

They watched her leave.

TJ turned to Mike and Morales, "That was awful quick."

Mike nodded, "She's hiding something", he stated as a matter fact.

"Yeah", Morales agreed, "But why would a grieving wife withhold information."

"Trouble in paradise?", TJ suggested.

"Or she's afraid of whoever killed her husband", Mike offered.

When they returned to the conference room, Dekker was waiting for them.

"Councilor, to what do we owe the pleasure?", Morales boomed.

"I was just in the neighborhood—thought I'd check in on how the case was going."

"The widow appears to be hiding something", Morales replied.

"She said their marriage was fine, gave me information to varify her alibi in D.C., and then shut down when we asked about problems at work at his work", TJ added.

"Well, that firm is very influential. She probably doesn't want to stir up any problems with them—they could cause major problems for her", Dekker stated flatly.

"Well, that is just great", Mike said, turning to their murder board.

"Do you have a minute, Mike?", Dekker asked.

"Sure."

They walked down the hall and stopped at a large window away from the hustle of the department.

Dekker began, "I wasn't just in the neighborhood, Mike. Hardin asked me to come down here and invite you to lunch with him."

"Oh. With him and… you?"

"Nope, just him—sorry to disappoint. I think he wants some one on one time with you."

"Why?", Mike was apprehensive.

"I don't know, but between you and me, he's not too keen to have you here."

"Again, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, why?"

"He's kind of' territorial, I think the only reason you're here is because he and your boss go back."

"So, he is afraid I am going to somehow try to take his case back to New York?"

"I don't think it is that simple. He just doesn't like strangers in his yard, I get the feeling he wants to make sure you're not going to vandalize his house."

Echoing himself from moments earlier, "That is just great."

"I'll text you with the when and where", Dekker said, as he gave him an encouraging slap on the shoulder as he left.

* * *

**Later:**

Connie stepped off the elevator and made an unwavering stride for her office. She was feeling the after effects of her power nap. Even though she did not spend the night caring for her mother, and got a full eight hours of sleep, she had a sleep debt and still needed the nap on Uncle Victor's couch. She was pulling a file out of the cabinet when a knock on her open door interrupted her.

"Hey", she said, giving him a welcoming smile.

He took a few slow steps inside, "I just saw you come in. I don't want to interrupt but I thought I'd stop by to see your office", Mike felt as though he needed an excuse to see her.

"It's fine, I'm not doing much."

Mike approached her desk and stared at her.

"What? Mike, do I have something on my face?", She began to wipe around her mouth.

He had a very playful look in his eyes, "Have you been sleeping?"

She froze, "Why would you ask that?"

A mischievous smile developed across his lips, "You have lines on your face, like you would get if you were sleeping hard".

She pulled a compact mirror form her purse to inspect for herself.

There were lines streaming down the right side of her face, "Crap".

He sat down in the chair across from her desk, "Aw, they're faded, hardly noticeable." He did not try to hide the amusement in his voice.

"Yet, you noticed them."

He shrugged.

After unsuccessfully trying to cover the lines up with makeup, she tried to change the subject, "What brings you here, did you guys need a warrant for something?"

"No", he laughed to himself, and shook his head, "If only it was that. I just got back from lunch with DA Hardin."

Her eyes went wide, "Why?"

"That was my exact question but to paraphrase Joe: he doesn't like strangers in his yard, and he wanted to make sure I wasn't going to tare house down."

She went to her desk to shuffle around paperwork, suddenly feeling uneasy, hearing Mike talk about "Joe" and lunch made her think about how the man in front of her went behind her back to her new boss.

"Are you alright?", Mike noticed her stiffness.

"Yeah", she covered, "I just get a deep feeling of dread when I see all of this paperwork".

"You have to do this all by yourself?", Mike asked innocently, "Doesn't Dekker help?"

She smirked at him, "Are you trying to get me to say something bad about a colleague?"

He froze and studied her face.

_"Dekker told her what I said",_ he internalized.

Before he could gather himself to speak, a knock on the door interrupted them.

"Good, we were hoping to find you both", Dekker announced, walking in with Morales and TJ in tow.

Mike and Connie turned towards them but did not respond.

Dekker continued, "The detectives found something interesting."

"Our murder victim", TJ picked up, "Had lunch with Spencer just a couple weeks before the murder."

"So, they worked together", Connie stated, as she watched her recent guest settle around her office.

Morales began, "Yeah, but we have them on video…fighting."

TJ handed Mike and Connie several copies of still shots of the video, "Well, as those show, our victim got into it with Spencer. Various finger pointing, what appears to be yelling…."

"Did it turn physical?", Mike questioned.

TJ grabbed a baseball off a stand on Connie's bookshelf.

"It looked like it was about to when someone broke it up", Morales said, as a smirk grew on his face.

"Please save us the slow reveal, Ricardo. Who was it?", Connie was getting impatient, she eyed TJ with the ball, who was standing next to Mike.

"Christine White."

Mike picked his head up, "The same Christine White who told us just hours ago that her husband wasn't having any problems with anyone."

"Yep"

"I guess that means we need to go talk to her again and explain to her the concept of obstruction of justice", Mike sounded like he was ready leave.

"We could…", Morales differed, "Or we could wait until tomorrow. You saw her today. She was upset and almost ran out of the building when we pushed her about who would want to kill her husband."

"So What? We sit on the most solid lead because a wife is emotional from losing her husband?", Mike retorted, sounding harsher than he intended.

"I want to get this guy as much as you, but if we push too hard she may shut down and not talk to us at all", Morales stood his ground.

It was not Mike's call. The New York district attorney let out a breath.

"So", Connie asked, "What are you guys doing, in the meantime?"

"We're going to talk to White's personal assistant. His firm has stonewalled us, and won't allow any of their employees to talk to us for anything short of a grand jury. However, Mrs. White, as they are shopping buddies, gave us the assistant's name and home address", TJ replied, tossing the ball a few inches into the air.

They all sat wordlessly for a moment, processing the case.

Morales broke the silence when he looked to TJ, who was standing on the opposite end of Connie's desk, and flatly said, "You do know that there is blood on that ball don't you?"

He looked down to better inspect the ball. Almost, instantaneously he tossed it like a hot coal onto Connie's desk.

"Why do you have a ball with someone's blood on it?" , TJ almost yelled in excitement.

Connie did not reply but watched Mike as he picked up the ball.

"Um, Mike, I'm not sure if you heard, but there is someone's blood on that ball", Morales restated, puzzled.

"I know", Mike replied, "It's mine".

He turned to Connie, "You kept this?"

"Yeah. You think I would throw it out?", Connie could not help but smile at his delight.

"Would someone like to share with the rest of the class?", TJ asked.

Connie and Mike looked at each other, she signaled for him to answer.

He stood up spinning the ball in his hands. He tried to harden his expression because this was personal and he did not want them, Connie's collogues, to read anything into their relationship.

"Before Connie left New York, we went to a Yankees-Mets game where I was hit with a pop fly", he held up his wrist, "It left me with a huge bruise and a nasty cut."

"Seriously?", Morales looked between Mike and Connie.

"Yeah, it made Sportcenter", Connie replied.

Everyone laughed at their story but Dekker's phone interrupted the moment.

Checking his phone, he said, "Judge Maxwell just moved our disposition to…now. Connie, we have to go."

"What a nice guy", Connie said sarcastically, as she gathered her things.

* * *

Connie looked at her watch, five 'o clock, she just finished her last arrangement and was packing her files to leave.

A voice from behind broke her thoughts, "I've missed watching you work".

Mike walked from the gallery of the empty courtroom to her, at the prosecution table.

She raised her eyebrow at him and asked in a playful manner, "You used to watch me work?"

His Cheshire grin made her melt, "Don't do that to me, Connie", he stressed her name. "You know what I mean."

She smiled at his uneasiness, "What brings you here?"

"I thought you might like to come with me to interview White's personal assistant, if you're not busy."

"Wasn't Morales and Jaruszalski going to do that?"

"Yes, but when they went to see her, she wasn't there. One of the neighbors told them that she often goes to her boyfriend's, who lives about an hour and a half outside of the city."

"Alright, well, I'm done here but I need to put this stuff in my office," she sounded less than thrilled.

"Am I disrupting any plans?", he was unsure about her reaction.

"No, just my paperwork. Sorry, if I'm not more enthused."

* * *

Katy Malone and her boyfriend, Tom Bell, sat across from Mike and Connie at their kitchen table.

"Now we know your employer has told you not to talk to us, but we are trying to find out who killed your boss", Connie said.

"Mr. White was different…than everyone else at the firm. He was better", Katy said, distantly.

"You liked your boss?", Connie further inquired.

"Yeah. That is why I quit today", she paused, "To tell you the truth, I know who you and Mr. Cutter are and I think Kyle Spencer killed Robert".

"What do you mean you know who we are?", Mike asked.

"Robert didn't like it when the firm hired Spencer…He was looking into Spencer—investigating him and he had been since he was hired. Robert talked a little about it to me and since you two prosecuted Spencer, your guys' names came up. But especially yours Ms. Rubirosa."

"How did my name come up in particular?"

"Robert thought that Spencer followed you here from New York", Katy took a deep breath, "The doctor who deemed his mother ailing and in need of care, was a buddy of Spencer's from college-his report is what convinced the New York parole board to let him move here."

"What exactly did Mr. White find?", Mike asked.

"I don't really know…He would talk to me—bounce ideas off me—in the beginning, but then a few months ago, he said he didn't want to involve me further because he thought it would put me in danger." Katy took another deep breath before she continued, "What I do know though, is Robert was convinced that Spencer followed you here and no one from firm would even listen to him. They want Spencer because he has one of the best acquittal rates in the country they don't care if he is a murderer himself. But Robert did care and…and a couple of weeks ago, he did tell me that he was planning to talk to you, Ms. Rubirosa. I don't know what changed, but something had—I think he found some kind of proof. "

"Are you sure that's everything you know", Connie pushed.

"Yeah, trust me I've gone through it a million times in my head since he was killed-that's it. I know I should have contacted you sooner and I'm sorry I didn't. But after I heard he was murdered I freaked and came out here."

"Did anyone at the firm know about White's investigation?", Mike wanted to know more.

"No, I don't think so. He wouldn't of told anyone there, as far as the other partners are concerned Spencer is off limits." Katy grabbed her boyfriend hand.

"How about his wife?", Connie piped in.

Katy looked down and took a deep breath, "He was doing this investigating out of his house, so no one at the office would find out about it. I don't really know what she knew, but I imagine it wasn't very much since he would have wanted to protect her too."

Mike and Connie looked to another to see if the other was finished.

"We'll get going, but if you think of or need anything please give us a call—day or night", Connie handed Katy her card.

They were almost out the door when Katy stopped them, "I know the kind of reputation the people at our firm have. But like I said Robert was different: he was investigating this because he believed Spencer was going to go after you and he felt responsible for him because the firm hired him."

Connie did not know how to respond, "We're going to do everything we can to catch him."

They drove almost twenty minutes off route to eat at a small outdoor shack. Connie called TJ and Morales to tell them about Katy's information while Mike ordered their food. The sun was beginning to set and there was a warm breeze tossing their hair.

Connie and Mike sat down at a picnic table with their fish tacos, "Are you alright?", Mike asked.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?", she seemed distracted.

"Well, you've been quiet", he paused for a second, as he watched her take a drink, "You know, it would be understandable if you weren't okay."

He now had her full attention,"If you want to say something, Mike, just say it."

"It's just…", he paused again unsure whether he should continue, "Normally if work gets too much, you can leave it at the office or ask to be taken off a case… but that's not possible in this situation."

She thought about what he said and shrugged, "I know, but what can I do?"

He just stared. Her detached reaction stupefied him. She was not the Connie he knew, the Connie he knew would have been more…more…Connie.

She noticed that was staring at her and had not touched his tacos, "What?"

"Are you okay?", was all he could think to say.

"You just asked me that, just worded differently", she could tell there was something different in his eyes, but she could not recognize it—it gave her butterflies.

"I know but you didn't answer me"

"I did, I said yeah, which meant fine."

"You seem different, Connie."

"I'm not sure if I know what you mean."

"Never mind", he tried to give her a reassuring smile but it did not reach his eyes, "It's nothing."

They sat in silence and ate.

They did not speak again until they reached her car, "Mike, do you want to drive? I think I am too tired to."

"Sure", he answered quickly, which made Connie laugh.

"The GPS should get us back to the office for your car", she handed him the keys to her Mustang.

He lightheartedly flirted with her, "I wouldn't mind getting lost in this car, on this evening, with this company"

She smiled at him, "That's fine, but you'll be paying for the gas".

* * *

Mike turned off the ignition outside of her apartment building. Connie had fallen asleep hours ago and he did not want to wake her.

However, he needed to, "Connie.", he put his hand on her arm and spoke softly, "Connie, you're home."

She jumped awake and looked around, "What time is it?"

"A little past eleven."

"Eleven? How did it take us that long?"

He laughed a little, "We joked about getting lost…"

"You should have woken me….Why are we at my apartment?"

"You're tired. I thought I would just bring you here so you didn't have to drive home."

"What about you?", she asked, still in a fog.

"I can take a cab."

She sat and thought for a moment, "No, I can't let you do that."

She took her keys from him and removed the Mustang's key, "Take this and pick me up in the morning, we can get your car tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, as long as you think you can make it to your hotel and back without getting lost", Connie teased him. "I've got court at nine so you need to pick me up around seven."

"Two hour commute?"

"That's an L.A. commute for you."

Mike laughed in return.

"I'll see you in the morning then?", Connie asked grabbing her things.

"Don't be in such a hurry, I'll walk you up." Mike got out of the car and walked around to open her door.

In the elevator, Connie realized she was home, "How did you know where I live?"

"Um…", he looked a bit guilty, "I looked at your driver's license."

"Ah, so now you're going through my things", she was not upset but she wanted to make him squirm.

"No", he was self-assured, "I just went through your wallet…and, I guess, your purse to find your wallet".

They stepped off the elevator on to her floor, "You're incredulous, Mike."

"I'm sorry, I invaded your privacy. I was just trying to let you sleep as much as you could. You've just seemed really tired, and I know it must be hard to sleep with all of this going on.", he seemed to sincerely regret it.

They stopped at her door and Connie unlocked it but did not go in, "No, Mike, I'm just messing with you. It's fine. No harm, no foul….I actually, really, appreciate it", her voice softened, "It was very thoughtful".

He shyly nodded and gave her a small smile, "I'll say goodnight then".

"Night".

As Connie stepped into her apartment, her cellphone rang.

She turned back to Mike, "It's Morales."

"Hello", Mike could only hear her side of the conversation, "Okay…. No, he's still with me. Yeah, all right we'll be right there. Bye."

She stepped out of her apartment and began to lock the door, "Apparently, there has been a development, and they want us at the station ASAP".

"Did he say what it was?"

"No, and I didn't ask because I got the feeling he didn't want to say over the phone."

* * *

_Please Review._


	6. Chapter 6

**After Midnight: May 10, 2013**

Mike and Connie entered the conference room where TJ, Morales, and Lt. Gonzales were working.

The three of them were surrounding a laptop and TJ closed it when they walked in.

"Please, sit down", Lt. Gonzales gestured towards the table across from her.

"What is going on?", Connie inquired, as Mike and Connie sat. It was evident that the group was uneasy.

Morales spoke up, "Tonight when you guys went to see White's assistant, your detail noticed someone following you on your way there. And they contacted us, and so not to spook the person, we told them not to do anything." He paused to let what he was saying sink in, "So, TJ and I went with backup and waited for him to show himself again, which he did not do until you two started to drive all over the map. We guess he thought you were trying to lose him or draw him out—or something because you were driving circles." Morales seemed to be asking a question in his least sentence.

Connie stifled a laugh.

"Who is he?", Mike asked, ignoring Connie.

"His name is Jason Greene—he's a private investigator. He says our murder victim hired him to investigate Spencer."

"And he was following me?", Connie was unsettled for this to be happening again.

"Yeah, but he said that he signed a nondisclosure form with White, so he won't tell us why. But Dekker is getting a warrant for his files", Morales said, looking to TJ.

TJ, receiving Morales' prompt, opened the laptop back up and pushed it to Mike and Connie.

"When we arrested him, he had a camera in the car, the memory card of said camera, which was almost full, had photos of you going back two weeks", TJ stated, "It wouldn't be surprising if he has been following you for longer".

Connie pulled the computer closer to her and keyed through the photos. There were pictures of her by herself, with her mom, dad, brother, uncle, Dekker, Hardin, Morales, TJ, and, in later photos, Mike.

As he looked at the photos, Mike watched Connie out of the corner of his eye. He could tell she was trying to remain passive at the overwhelming violation of her personal privacy.

"We've got the warrant to search his office and acquire any files pertaining to White", Dekker announced, as he and Hardin entered the room.

"TJ, gather some uniform officers for the search", Gonzales ordered.

He nodded his head, grabbed his jacket and left.

"What are we charging him with?", Connie asked Dekker and Hardin, "From what I see in these photos, they were all taken in public areas, where I didn't have an expectation of privacy. Thus, no crime occurred."

"Morales and TJ have him on reckless driving and resisting arrest. It's not very much but we can wait twenty-four hours before we arraign him, and pushing it into Friday night will put him with the always reliable weekend troublemakers. I bet we can get him into backlog until at least Sunday, possibly Monday", Dekker answered.

Hardin added, "It will at least give us enough time to determine whether he broke any other laws."

* * *

**Later:**

The private detective had hundreds of files on Kyle Spencer. Greene, fearing hackers, used paper instead of digital documentation, with exception of using digital pictures, which he kept thousands of on his computer, and only about a hundred photos printed on paper. Their once cluttered conference room, was now deluged with boxes, files and loose papers. After being ordered to remove the boxes from sight in the squad room, TJ and Morales moved a mass of boxes into the break room, which now resembled a filing room, with the addition of a coffee pot and couch.

Currently, Morales and TJ were sluggishly going through the paper work in the conference room. They respectively spent intervals of the night between four to five hours of sleep, in the bunkroom, down the hall used for overnighters, and going through the new evidence. Mike and Connie, however, did not go to the bunkroom, they worked straight through the night, pouring through Spencer's life for the last two years. Until, they fell asleep in their respective places.

Mike suddenly awoke with the loud sound of a thud. He surveyed the room slightly disoriented from sleep and the rude awakening.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you", TJ said, as he picked up a book and several files off the floor.

"It's fine", Mike replied.

One of the first first things Mike noticed, was the cold draft. His suit jacket had been laid across him but had slid down when he awoke.

He stared at it,_ "Must have been Connie...",_ he thought to himself. He looked around the room again, this time, for her.

"She's in the newly ordained file room", Morales broke his thoughts.

"Who?", Mike gave him a perplexed look.

"Connie. She's asleep on the new filing cabinet."

Mike stared at him for a moment, confused, "Okay…."

"There's coffee in there too", TJ added.

"Thanks", he stood up, "I could use some."

They exchanged glances as Mike left, and once out of earshot, TJ asked, "Do you think there's something going on there?"

"I don't think it's our business."

"Come on, Ricardo. He traveled three thousand miles and has been working his ass off since he got here", Morales gave him an unpleasant expression, but he continued, "Come on we're detectives, we inherently detect".

"Two things, TJ. One, need I remind you that Connie was my partner before you. Moreover, we were the people who sat and talked about how horrible office gossipers are...", he paused for effect, "Two, I can tell you as a prosecutor, when you lose a case or someone gets off on lesser time and winds up committing another crime, we tend to take it personally—no matter where the proceeding crimes are perpetrated."

"You're evading the question, councilor", TJ deadpanned.

"Here", Morales threw a folder in front of him, "Her phone records, e-mails and we have pictures from about every day, does it look like they were in contact?", Morales said, exasperated.

"You've already looked haven't you?"

"I'm done. I'm not talking to you anymore, just give me that box."

* * *

Mike walked into the break room. He, now, understood what Morales meant by Connie being asleep on the 'filing cabinet'. She was sitting slightly slumped down, with her head between the back of the couch and her shoulder. There were at least twenty to thirty files surrounding her in different states, some were closed with pages hanging out but most were empty, the contents in several different piles.

Mike walked to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. He remembered she had court and checked his watch: 7:45. He made her a cup and set out to wake her.

_"I shouldn't of filled them so full…"_, Mike scolded himself, while trying to walk through the maze of boxes and papers. Once he reached her, he cleared half of the coffee table, which was in front of the couch. He laid the files on the floor and focused on waking her up.

Mike took her cup of coffee and positioned it underneath her nose, swaying it back and forth.

Connie slowly stirred. She smiled immediately upon seeing him.

"Sorry about waking you, but you have court in little over an hour", Mike said, as he handed her the coffee.

She looked at her watch, "Oh…I probably would have slept right through it. Thanks."

He sat across from her, on the coffee table, with his coffee and watched her drink.

She smiled.

"The coffee is not that good", he quipped.

Connie gave a small laugh and smiled sweetly at him, "No…you just remember how I like it."

"Of course", his voice was low.

They stared at each other.

"I'm glad you're here, Mike."

"Me t-"

Ring. Buzz. Ring.

Connie's phone interrupted him.

Looking at the caller ID, she said, "It's my dad".

"I'll let you take that", Mike said, clearing his throat and standing up.

"Hello", she answered watching him leave.

"Good morning, you didn't call me last night, I was getting worried", he sounded concerned.

"Morning to you too, and _was_ worried?", she teased him.

"Was. _Am_. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry things just…things got busy night and completely forgot. I'm sorry", she stood up to gather her things.

"Are you any closer to catching that creep?"

"Yes and no. We've got several new leads to follow up on…. How's Mom?", she asked, changing the subject.

"Well…", he hesitated, "She's sick with a cough, it's not too bad at the moment. But we've got a close eye on her."

A pang of worry and guilt hit Connie.

"Is she alright? Have you taken her to the doctor?"

"Yes we did, and he said she was alright, but we need to watch out for pneumonia. It's alright, darling, we're taking care of her".

"How is Maria doing with her?"

"Good, they have been doing a lot of catching up. Your mom wishes you were here too—to have her girls together again".

"I know, but I can't right now. I'm not comfortable coming to see you while this 'creep' is still out there."

"Which is all the more reason you should be with family."

She took a deep conflicted breath. As much as she loved her family, Connie has also enjoyed the distance from them over the last few days.

She did not know what to say, "Look, Dad, I have to get to court. I will call you later, alright?"

"Sure, be safe, Honey. I love you."

"Love you too, Dad, bye."

"Bye"

* * *

Mike, TJ, and Morales just finished lunch, but they were not ready to delve back into the haystack.

"This feels wrong", Morales said, gesturing around the room, "This private detective took it upon himself to violate Connie's privacy and now, by going through what he has on Spencer, we are doing it again".

"It has to lead somewhere, there's just too much here for it not to", TJ said, trying to put it in perspective.

Mike sighed.

His attention went to a pile of surveillance photos of Connie—nobody wanted to look at them, _"Why would he print these off?_, Mike wondered, grabbing the photos. There were at least fifty pictures in that particular pile, _"Different days, places, times…."_

He studied them.

"Look at this!", Mike exclaimed, as he shot up from his chair.

Morales and TJ walked over to him.

"This guy is in the background of all of these photos", Mike scattered out the pile of pictures, "There is someone _else_ following Connie".

"We need to run this guy through facial recognition and see if this guy has a record, or is in the DMV's database", TJ stated.

"Yeah", Morales picked up a clear photo, patted Mike on the back, and began to walk out the room, "Good catch, Mike".

He did not feel good about his find. Matter of fact, he felt complete dread—there was someone else following Connie.

"I'm going to stretch my legs", Mike absent mindedly told TJ, as grabbed his suit jacket and walked out the door.

* * *

"Greene was following him following her?", Dekker asked, rather puzzled, pointing at a picture of the mystery-man.

"We don't know", Morales admitted, "And the lab is backed up so it may be a while before they run him through".

"I take it Greene wouldn't say anything about this either?", Connie asked, staring that the photos in question.

"Nope, we tried—he's not going to talk", TJ responded.

"Where is Mike?", Dekker questioned.

"He said he needed to stretch his legs", TJ relayed.

"How long ago?", Connie asked, she and Dekker were due back in court soon, but she wanted to see him.

"Probably, about an hour ago."

She was disappointed but did not let it show.

She turned to Dekker, "We should probably get going."

"Yeah", he agreed, and turned to the detectives, "But before we do, how many more files do you have to go through?"

Morales stiffed a pained laugh, "We're pretty much done. The four of us went through the bulk of it. However, the bit that is left will be sorted through by officers who volunteered for some overtime."

* * *

_A/N: The next chapter was (so far) my favorite to write. But it is kind of long, and I need to rewrite small portions of it. Getting to the point, I hope to have it up next weekend, but I'm not making any promises. Through, I'll try._

_Please Review. _


	7. Chapter 7

Connie signed her name and initialed the page. She had started with a foot high pile of paper work, and now it was less than two inches thick. She tried to blot the salty wet spots off the paper but they just smeared. Although, she did not really care if the papers were wet from her tears, they just needed to be filled out and signed. She did not go back to the LAPD after court—she could not take working on the Spencer case anymore. She, for the last couple of months, had been followed around by to different men. She needed to be home. Connie sat at her kitchen table, completing her work from the DA's office, crying. She was not sobbing but for the last few hours, she allowed herself to cry.

_Knock. Knock. Knock…. Knock._

Her head jerked towards the door, _"Murderers don't knock.",_ she told herself.

Her security detail was outside in their car. She quickly stood up and grabbed a nearby baseball bat.

"Who is it?", she yelled.

"Pizza boy!"

She instantly relaxed, walked to the door, and looked through the peephole, "I didn't order any pizza!"

"Well, I'm sorry, miss, but it says right here: a free large for the over worked and underpaid."

He made her laugh. She wiped her tears, hid the bat, and opened the door. Mike was there wearing a dark blue t-shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and holding a box of pizza. His stomach dropped, as he noticed she had been crying.

"Come on in", she said, widening the door for him to enter. He silently walked in, "I can take that into the kitchen", she said gesturing to the pizza, "It may be easier to take your jacket off."

"Yeah, thanks", he handed it to her. "I'm sorry to just drop in unannounced", he apologized, as followed her into the kitchen.

"I'm inclined to say it's fine, but this is the third time you have interrupted me doing paperwork—in the _two days_ you have been here", she was clearly teasing him.

Mike could tell she did not want to talk about her being upset so he, too, pretended everything was fine.

He entered the kitchen and stared at the piles of paper on her table, "Dear Lord, Connie, I can't look at another piece of paper after Greene's mess. You're going to go insane!"

"Clam down, Mike, the larger pile is finished", she grabbed two plates and a cup out of the cabinet.

"Did you do that tonight?"

She gave him a small smile, "What do you want to drink?"

"Whatever you're having."

She got him some water.

"Okay…I was expecting something stronger."

"Yeah, trust me, I thought about it earlier, but it does not seem wise to be inebriated when you have a murderer after you."

"When you put it like that…water sounds great", he took his water and grabbed a piece of pizza.

"I'm not messing with these files, let's go to the couch."

Her apartment was small but had an open floor plan. The kitchen was separated from the living room by an eat-in island. Her kitchen table would sit two comfortably and she had it pushed against a wall to save room. The living room had a couch, coffee table, rocking chair, TV, and stacks of books flooded the floorboards in the corner.

"When did you eat? I know nine is late for diner, but I hoped it might have been a few hours...", Mike asked, getting situated on the couch with her.

"Uh…I guess I didn't."

"You guess?"

"I sat down to do paperwork when I got home, and I guess I didn't look at a clock."

"You need a clock to tell you when you're hungry?"

"I just lost track of time."

While they ate, neither of them wanted to talk about the Spencer case, so they discussed recent cases they had tried and Mike ranted about some outrageous decisions made by some judges.

"So, what have you been up to…outside of work?", Connie asked, even though, she was not sure if she wanted to hear his answer.

He sat his plate on the coffee table next to hers, "Well", he took a deep breath, "I got a cat."

She choked on some water she was drinking, "A cat?"

"Yeah, her name is Alley"

"I can't see you with a cat, Mike", she laughed at the thought.

He dug his phone out of his pocket and showed her pictures, "Here."

Connie took his phone and scrolled through his photos. Alley had long gold hair and big blue eyes. She got smaller the more Connie scrolled backwards.

She looked up at Mike and cooed, "Aww, Mike…she has your eyes!"

"Ha. Ha. Connie", he smiled at her.

"How did you come to adopt her?", Connie asked, seriously.

"I found her in an alley walking home from work almost a year ago. She had been abandoned—only three weeks old."

"Aww, that is so sweet, Mike."

"Who's taking care of her now?"

"An elderly couple who lives across the hall from me", Mike gave a small smile, "So that is what I have been up to."

She gave him back his phone and waited several moments before she spoke, "Mike, if I ask you something, will you promise me to tell the truth".

"You think I'd lie?"

"Considering I think you already have…"

"Oh, okay then.", he said, pretending to be hurt.

"Did Jack really authorize your trip down here?"

Mike paused a moment, "Define 'authorize'?"

She gave him an incredulous look, "Mike."

He knew he was caught. "Jack wouldn't approve the expenses…so I agreed to take my vacation days and pay the expenses. He just had to tell Hardin that I'm here with the full sponsorship of the office."

Connie was shocked and stated bluntly, "Which you're not."

"Not exactly."

"If Hardin knew…," she paused to process the information, "If Hardin finds out that Jack didn't feel that it was important enough for you to come out here that he wouldn't pay for it…"

"How would he?", he was not concerned.

"Mike, People know people! There are people in my office who have friends back in Manhattan. If anyone in the office knows about your and Jack's arrangement…" she let her words hang, "The fact that you would personally pay several thousands of dollars' worth of expenses, that Jack refused, and come all the way out here, on your vacation days, makes it sound like you have a personal vendetta."

"Well, again, when you put it like that-"

She cut him off and locked eyes with him, "Hardin would throw you out of town and completely dissolve any good faith relations with Jack..."

"That's why Jack told me to be discrete", Mike replied, sounding self-assured.

She stared down at the corner of the room and turned back to him, "Do you have a personal vendetta against Spencer?"

"No", he was surprised at her, "If I did, do you think Jack would have supported me at all?"

"No, but, Mike, you just don't do…what you've done…."

His eyes suddenly turned serious. Connie had not seen that intense look in his eyes in a very long time—it sent shivers down her spine. She sensed, in the back of her mind and the pit of her stomach, what that look meant, but she was not going to permit herself the acknowledgement.

Mike did not want his arrangement to seem extraordinary, "I know you would do the same for me…. It's what partners do", he tried to sound nonchalant.

She gave him a small smile.

He took a deep breath and repositioned himself so that he would be facing Connie—they were sitting inches from each other.

He stared at her for a moment and said, "Now, I would like to ask you something, and I would like for you to tell the truth."

"Okay", she responded.

"It's personal", His voice was low and his demeanor was relaxed.

She nodded her head for him to continue.

"Are you happy?"

His simple question caught her off guard and she echoed the response he gave her, "Define happy?"

His incredulous expression mirrored hers in response to him moments earlier.

"Am I that obvious?", she asked him flatly.

"Well, you've been…different, rather… passive about things.", he stumbled to find the right words.

She avoided his eyes and looked down at her hand where she was fiddling with a hair tie, "I…", she began, "I don't know…between work and my family I have been pretty stressed out."

She looked up at him and his eyes were imploring her to continue.

She took a deep breath, "I practically live with my parents. I leave for work at 6-am and stay until eight or so, at which point I go home and take care of my mother, with me trying to grab moments of sleep at intervals until my dad comes home around five."

She looked up at him and tried to give him a mischievous smile through some tears she was fighting, "I go to my uncle's, who lives about three blocks from my office, every day at lunch and grab an hour on his couch—hint the sleep lines you caught me with."

He gave a small laugh, "That explains a bit".

She continued, "I'm sure this will pass …. I'm pretty happy at work."

He nodded and there was a brief pause before he spoke, "Things haven't been the same without you".

They sat for a moment before he looked at his watch, "What? It can't be!", he straightened up.

"What?"

"It's one-thirty!"

"Seriously?"

Mike gave her a tired smile, "Yes...", he paused, "I should go, if either of us want to get any decent amount of sleep."

He began to slide off the couch when Connie grabbed his arm, "Mike…", she hesitated, "You can stay."

He stopped. And her eyes were begging him to stay. Connie could tell by his body language, that he was hesitant.

She stared at her hand on his arm, "I want you to stay", her voice was so low he could hardly hear her, "I feel better with you here".

Mike froze and his heart began to race. His mind went blank, as he tried to think of something to say.

Connie abruptly stood up and her demeanor suddenly changed, "No, I shouldn't have asked. Forg-"

"No. No.", he interrupted her, as he stood, "Um… I can stay."

"You really don't have to, Mike…. This couch is not that comfortable", she was speaking a little faster than normal.

"You haven't seen my hotel room. This couch would be an upgrade."

She gave him a small smile and awkwardly stood there for a second, "Um…alright then... I will go and get you a pillow and cover"

She disappeared down the hallway and Mike looked around her apartment. It was not what he expected. It was haphazardly lived in and did not even have a single picture or painting hung on the wall. He knew, through their work together, that Connie was an organized person but her apartment looked like the antithesis of personality.

"Mike?", her voice broke his thoughts.

"Yeah", he replied, turning around. She had her arms full with a pillow and cover for him.

"Is this enough cover? It doesn't get too cold in here."

"Huh… yeah, that will be fine, thanks."

She nodded and placed the items on the couch.

"This wasn't what I expected your apartment to look like."

She laughed, "Well, I'm not here much. So…."

* * *

Mike studied the old and new case files. None of it made sense to him. Why was Kyle Spencer targeting Connie? That question is what kept him from sleeping. He could not figure out why Spencer would wait five years and then follow her across the country. If Spencer was seeking revenge on her, because of her part in prosecuting him and turning his sister, why did he wait so long, and why would he not just hire someone to kill her? And who was it that was following her in those pictures?

Throwing the crime scene photos from Spencer's wife murder on the coffee table, Mike leaned back on the couch and frustratingly ran his hands through his hair. He took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling. He could not believe that she had asked him to stay. She must be a lot more worried than she let on because, even when she had a drug cartel threatening her several years ago, she did not let Jack remove her from the case and, at the time, she would not let any fear show. Furthermore, it was unsettling to him that her protection detail was several floors down and across the street. How could they protect her from down there? However, Mike knew, the only way they could be closer was if they stayed in Connie's apartment with her, and she was not about to allow that. He stood up and began to pace the dimly lit living room. The apartment was deafly silent save for the distant tick of a clock in the kitchen. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. He was not particularly thirsty, but he was restless. Back in the living room, he placed the glass of water on the coffee table and continued to pace the quiet apartment. A noise from Connie's room caught his attention and he slowly inched his way to her closed door.

Mike stood there for a moment listening for another noise. He was not sure whether he had imaged the noise in his tense state, or if it actually happened. Then he heard her blow her nose. He let out a sigh of relief—it was not an attack. He began to step back when sounds of her sobbing stopped him. Mike leaned in closer to the door. More sobbing. He did not know what to do. Connie was a proud woman and she probably did not want him to see her cry—but he could not walk away.

He gently knocked on her door. The sobs immediately stopped.

"Connie", he softly called out.

He got no response and knocked again.

"Con-"

"I'm fine"

"May I come in?"

He could hear her take a large uneven breath through the door.

He slowly inched the door open, "Connie?"

"Go back to bed, Mike, I'm fine"

She was not fine. She could hardly choke out the words.

He did not listen and, very slowly, entered her room. His eyes were not ready for the dark and he just stood waiting for them to adjust. He could hear her try not to cry, but she did not tell him to leave, again. He was slowly able to make out her silhouette on the bed. She was sitting up and her legs were crossed in front of her. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. She fervently wiped the tears from her eyes.

Mike grabbed her hand that was resting in her lap and whispered, "It's okay to cry, Connie."

She tightly grasped his hand, "I don't want to…, but these damn bastards are getting to me".

"I wish there was something I could say or do"

She fell into him and began to cry into his shoulder. It caught him off guard. He was not expecting her to give in to him. He firmly embraced her and rubbed his hand up and down her back.

Mike was not sure how long she had cried, but her sobs were finally subsiding, when she finally spoke again.

"Stay", she mumbled into his chest.

He did not reply or make any movements.

Connie pulled away to consider Mike's non-reaction. She could not quite read his expression. His eyes were very intense but, at the same time, seemed soft with concern. He reached up and wiped a few of her tears with his thumb, and caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. She closed her eyes and leaned in to his touch. When he began to pull his hand away, Connie thought he was getting up, but when she opened her eyes, she saw that he was nodding his head. She scooted over and lifted the covers for him to climb in. He laid down next to her and she moved to be closer to him. Mike turned on his side to face her and grabbed her hand.

She wanted more contact. She wanted him to hold her.

Connie rolled over so that they were nose to nose. She placed his hand on her hip and she ran her hand up his arm to his side. Mike hoped that he understood what she sought. He pulled himself close to her and completely encircled her in his arms. It was not until then, that she felt his legs and noticed that he was not wearing his pants.

* * *

**A/N: I know it's been a little while since the last update but I've been busy. Busy, including staying up late to watch a Linus Roache early 1900s time period drama tv-movie: The Making of a Lady. It's up on YouTube, in eight or so parts, if anyone is interested. I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about it... But who doesn't like Roache in his British accent. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Friday May 10, 2013**

_BEEP!_

_BEEP!_

_BEEP!_

Mike searched for the source of the sound on Connie's nightstand.

_BEEP!_

_BEEP!_

He randomly pressed buttons but the volume only became louder.

_BEEP!_

Connie threw herself on top of Mike and thumped the alarm clock.

Silence.

She burrowed her head into Mike's neck, "I forgot to turn that off. I don't have court until after lunch."

He looked at the clock: 5:00 AM.

He turned back to Connie. Her whole body was on top of his. Unsure where to put his hands, Mike just let his hands rest at the sides of him. Her body against his was almost more than he could take. He wanted to touch her... it felt natural for her to be so close. But her body seemed tense and he felt her take a sharp breath.

"Are you okay?"

She did not voice an answer but rolled off him.

"Connie, are you feeling alright?", he asked again.

She rubbed her temples and clutched her eyes tightly shut.

There was a long pause before she answered, "My head is killing me...the light is killing me."

"Where is your aspirin?"

"I don't know, I may not have any."

"You don't know?", he tried to keep his voice hushed.

"I don't spend much time here."

"Right…I'll look and if you don't have any, I'll run down the street."

"It's fine, Mike", Connie said, not wanting him to leave.

"I'll be right back."

He reentered a few minutes later with pills and a glass of water in hand.

"Here, they were in your kitchen—expires next month.", he sat down facing her on the bed.

"Thank you", she sat up and squinted, as she took the pills and water from him.

Connie drank half the glass and gave it back to Mike, who sat it on the nightstand. She meekly smiled at him in return. Slowly, she laid back down and buried her head into her pillow. He sat there for a moment staring at her.

She barely opened her eyes, "Are you just going to sit there?"

Mike initially hesitated to move, but he ultimately laid down next to her. He waited until she closed her eyes, before turning to watch her sleep.

* * *

Mike was just getting to sleep when Connie's cellphone began to ring. He grabbed it and immediately muted the ringer. The screen read 'Ricardo Morales', but he just stared at it because he could not bring himself to wake her up while she was not feeling well.

It stopped vibrating.

He turned to look at Connie, she was still asleep, with her head burrowed into her pillow. Then his phone began to ring. Quickly, he grabbed it and muted the ringer. He looked at the screen: 'Ricardo Morales'. He quickly—but gently—got out of bed and walked down the hall so not to wake her.

"Cutter."

"Hey, Mike, it's Ricardo. I'm sorry to wake you, but something's come up."

"What is it?"

"Katy Malone, White's assistant, had been found dead along with her boyfriend, Tom Bell."

He took a deep breath, "Where?"

"The boyfriend's cabin."

"Where Connie and I interviewed her?"

"Yeah, TJ and I are on our way there now", Morales sounded dim.

"Okay, I'll meet you there... Bye."

"Bye"

He walked back to Connie's doorway. She was still sleeping. Her phone buzzed again, in his hand, but he quickly dismissed the call and muted the ringer.

She needed her sleep.

So Mike put his jeans on and grabbed a pen and some paper to write a note.

* * *

Mike walked into the ransacked crime scene that, just a little over twenty-four hours ago, was a safe haven for the victim.

"What happened?", he asked TJ and Morales, as he walked closer to the bodies.

"The attack happened around three-am.", TJ started, "We think there was at least two assailants—probably more—that came in by way of the back door, judging by the numerous muddy shoe prints."

Morales picked it up, "They were both tied up, beaten, a couple of their fingers were removed, and shot—no sign of sexual assault on her. It's hard to tell what's missing. There are a couple different computer chargers indicating there was more than one computer—they're both missing, and it looks like a tablet is gone. Nothing else obvious."

Mike scrutinized the crime scene. The place had been ripped apart: the furniture was flipped over, bookshelves were emptied on to the floor, papers were scattered all over the house, and holes had been cut out of some walls. Malone and Bell were in the middle of the living room. Mike could hardly recognize them.

"Do you think the assailants followed me and Connie up here?", Mike was feeling culpable.

"We don't know", Morales said temperately, "Whoever did this, could of gotten the information from her friends, family, or, like us, her neighbor."

"But we know that Connie and I were followed. Greene is still in custody but that other guy could have also followed us up here."

"Mike, this isn't on you or Connie. There are a lot of known unknowns, any theories would be presumptuous", Morales tried mollify him.

Mike followed Morales and TJ back the city to ensure that he would not get lost, and then he headed to his hotel. He knew his jeans and t-shirt would not be desired attire for a guest at the LAPD—not to mention, since he had not shaved, a beard was emerging. At a stop sign, he allowed himself to check his phone for the fourth time: no calls or messages. He wondered if Connie had woken up yet. A pang of guilt hit him because he did not think to reset the alarm for her, to a more reasonable time. Also, he turned off her cell—the only other way she may by alerted to the time.

* * *

It was eleven 'o clock by the time he arrived at the LAPD parking garage. Morales and TJ met him at security, as they had stopped and grabbed breakfast. Much to his relief, Connie was waiting with Dekker and Lt. Gonzales at TJ and Morales' desks.

"What do have?", Lt. Gonzales asked, immediately getting to business.

Mike eyed Connie, as Morales answered, "They were tortured before being shot, the place had been ransacked, and it appears that several electronic devices were taken including a couple of computers and tablets".

"We're thinking Spence had this hired done. Needless to say, his wife and colleague were more personal, but by the way the fingers were severed, it looks like a professional job", TJ offered.

If Mike had not of known, how upset Connie was last night or sick this morning, he would not have been able to tell. She caught him watching her, from the corner of her eye, and slightly turned to give him a small smile.

"Any witnesses?", their boss further probed.

"A few, Lieutenant: There was either a black, blue, dark green, or _red_, large car or small SUV, with three or four guys inside, hanging around the neighborhood yesterday", TJ replied sardonically. "Needless to say, we're still canvassing."

"That's great", Gonzales stated sarcastically.

"Do you have any good news?", Dekker pleaded, "I'm on my way to explain to Hardin how our single homicide just tripled."

"No, sorry", Morales replied, feeling sympathetic.

"Do we know how they found her?", Connie asked.

"No", Morales replied, he knew that she, like Mike, was worried that they were followed, "We do not. For all we know, we weren't the only ones the neighbor talked to. There could be several possibilities."

Connie's phone rang; she examined the caller ID, and excused herself.

The four of them watched her leave as if they were expecting something to happen.

"What is your next step?", Dekker asked wanting more information.

"Well, we have a more formal interview planed with Christine White, the widow of the first victim. And she has already lied to us about not knowing about the fight between her husband and Spencer...", TJ let the words hang, "She wouldn't see us yesterday, her son told us his mom was too upset to talk and we weren't prepared to drag her out of her house. But she agreed to come in today".

Mike added, "She talked like she was pretty close to Katy Malone. Another death might make her inclined to actually tell us the truth."

Dekker absently nodded soaking in the information. Mike looked around at the group of concerned people that surrounded him. This made him feel better knowing they were all looking out for her but at the same time, he felt jealous because the familial setting mirrored what they used to have in New York, before she left and his promotion—everyone looked out for each other—except, now, they now had Connie.

She walked back into the room, "I'm sorry, Jonah, I know we have that witness prep but...", paused as she picked up her briefcase from Morales' seat. "Something has come up—a family emergency and I have to go", she appeared composed but in a hurry.

"That's fine I can handle it", Jonah said, trying to be supportive, "Take the day if you need it—I can handle court".

"I'm not sure if it will come to that…but I will call you in a little bit and let you know…."

"Alright", Dekker did not want to push her one way or another.

"I'll check in later", Connie looked around at each of them, but slightly paused on Mike, before she left.

They all murmured a goodbye unsure what to say.

TJ sat down at his desk, as she was leaving earshot, "That didn't sound good. Has to be something bad for her to leave after there being two more murders" he innocently made the observation.

Everyone just stared at him.

"What?", he asked noticing the eyes upon him.

Jonah exchanged looks with everyone and stood straight, "I think I will be going…call if anything comes up."

"I'll walk you out", Gonzales offered Dekker, wanting not to have that conversation with her detective.

"Was it something I said?" TJ asked, feeling that the prosecutor's departure was on his account.

* * *

"Thank you for coming in, Mrs. White.", Morales said, as he pulled out the chair for her, opposite of the two-way mirror.

"Of course, I'm sorry, I wasn't feeling well yesterday," Christine White replied, feeling uneasy about being placed in an interrogation room.

"That's understandable, ma'am, you've been through a lot", Mike waited for her to sit before he took a seat across from her.

"I told you what I knew a couple of days ago, why am I here?"

"Well, we wanted to know if you had thought of anything else that might help us", Morales asked, sitting down next to Mike.

"No, trust me, I would tell you if I knew something that could help", Mrs. White stated resolutely.

"So you're not aware of any fights between your husband and one of his colleagues?", Mike asked.

"No, like I told you", she shook her head.

"Don't lie to us Mrs. White", Morales was getting impatient, "We can arrest you for obstructing our investigation."

He laid out the pictures of her breaking up the yelling match between her husband and Spencer from the security video.

"Now, what do you know?", Morales was soft but firm with her.

"Nothing, Robert didn't tell me what was going on. He just said it was work."

"Mrs. White, do you expect us to believe that", Mike said, a bit irritated.

She gave him a fixed stare in return.

Morales and Mike looked at each other—both knew what needed to be done.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Mrs. White", Morales started, "But both Katy Malone and her boyfriend, Thomas Bell was found murdered this morning".

She froze.

"Katy?", Mrs. White processed.

"Whatever you are not telling could help us catch the man who has killed your husband and friend", Morales tried to reason with her.

White fervently shook her head, as though she refused the information, "I don't know anything"

Mike pulled out photos of Katy's body at the crime scene, from a file, and held them up to her, "This is your friend". Mike's demeanor was unyielding, and his eyes were sharp, "The guy who did _this_ is following a friend of ours". He paused to let his words sink in, his voice was unforgiving and emotionless, "But you know that don't you?"

"No!", she turned in her chair and began to cry upon seeing her dead friend.

Mike leaned forwards cross the table, "Yes, and you are aiding him by lying to us!"

White had tears streaming down her face, "He will come after my boy!", she exclaimed.

"No, we can protect him—both of you.", Morales calmly piped in, handing her a tissue.

"You can't.", she looked up at Morales, "He'll get to us."

"He'll come after you even if he thinks you know _anything, _it won't matter whether you talk to us or not", Mike insisted.

She took a couple of jagged breaths and thought for moment, "Robert...sus...suspected that Kyle Spencer was running an organized crime ring".

Mike and Morales shared shocked looks.

White continued, "Really, he wouldn't tell me the details. But he said he had hired a private detective to investigate him."

"Look, we will protect you and your son but you need to tell us _everything"_, Morales stressed.

"I swear, that is all I know. He…he wanted to keep me safe, he wouldn't tell me anything."

Morales and Mike believed her.

"We'll get a protection detail on you and your son, ma'am.", Morales patted her arm. "Where is he at the moment?"

"Um…", she wiped her eyes, "at home."

"Alright, we'll send a car over to him and I'll be back with someone to take you home in a moment", Morales told her, as he and Mike left.

Once they entered the hallway Mike's phone beeped

"What? It says I have a voice mail but it didn't even ring?"

"Yeah, there are some dead-dead spots around her. Some of our calls go straight to voicemail."

Lt. Gonzales, TJ, and Dekker emerged from the observation room.

"Well, we can go back and talk to the PI, now that we know what he was not telling us", Mike suggested, trying to figure out their next step.

"That's not going to be possible", Dekker sounded frustrated, "Greene was just released on bail."

"What, how did that happen?", Morales questioned.

"We weren't as busy as hoped. A judge that had been sick for the last two weeks, came in today so there wasn't the anticipated backlog."

Mike took deep breath and breathed out his nose, frustrated.

The lieutenant tried to take control of the situation, "Morales, grab a couple of uniform officers and take Mrs. White home, stay there until the protective detail arrives. TJ the corner is waiting for you."

They nodded their heads to acknowledge their orders.

Mike piped in and said, "I guess I can go with TJ to the corner's…"

He did not expect any opposition but Lt. Gonzales interrupted him, "Mr. Cutter, may I speak with you for a moment?" It was more of a statement than question.

"If you'd excuse me, I've got court.", Dekker uncomfortably excused himself, "I think I'll just walk out with TJ."

Morales gave Mike a sympathetic glance over his shoulder before walking away with TJ and Dekker.

"Mr. Cutter", Lt. Gonzales' voice was level and curt, "I appreciate why you are here—someone you put away is stalking your old colleague, and you _have_ been very helpful to this investigation but…you are here as a _guest_. What you pulled in there will not be tolerated. Bullying that grieving widow was uncalled for, pernicious, and callous. She just lost her husband; she did not need to be shown a photo of her best friend's mutilated dead body."

"She was shutting down and wasn't going to talk to us", Mike tried to defend himself.

"I understand that but the next course of action was not yours to take. Detective Morales was leading that interview, it was his decision."

Mike was aggravated but held his tongue because he knew she was right-and he did not need to cause trouble for himself.

"I'm sorry, you're right. I over stepped. It won't happen again."

She nodded with a somewhat skeptical but satisfied response, "Good.", and left for her office.

Mike stood alone the hallway. He reached into his pocket, and grabbed his phone to check the voice mail.

_"Um…It's me, I just wanted to let you know that my mom has been hospitalized with pneumonia. I'm going to take Jonah's offer and take part of the day off…",_ Connie's voice was flat, _"I didn't want anything really…just to say hi. We didn't really get to talk this morning", _she took a deep breath and her voice changed pitch, _"And I guess, I wanted to talk—not about anything in particular so it doesn't matter…. They're not allowing cellphones to be on in here, so I'll just see you later. Bye."_

Mike looked at the time; she called almost three hours ago, at noon. He sighed, unsure what to do.

* * *

_Please Review!_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: So yes, in response to DaisyDay, Connie is in protective custody. She has officers following her around while out in public and they stay parked outside her apartment at night. I'm sorry, if I wasn't clear on that. It's talked about a little bit more in this chapter._

_Also, something I should have put in the first chapter, when I first introduced him, Connie's father is a doctor. I know in the show her father was a doctor in Spain (I think), but his medical licence wouldn't carry over to the US so he had to become a nurse (I think). So this is not completely cannon, he practices medicine here. My mistake for not better introducing him. (He's only referenced in this chapter and not in it, we don't meet him until next chapter.) _

* * *

Connie stood in the LAPD's cafeteria, passively staring at the different choices of salads. There was Caesar, ice burg, romaine, and numerous different types of dressings. The salads were prepackaged in plastic bowls and the dressing was in individual packets.

A voice at her ear brought her out of her thoughts, "Anything decent to eat here?"

Connie jumped at the proximity of the voice, "Mike, dear Lord!", she took a breath, "I'm going to tell you what I told Ricardo a couple of days ago, 'DO NOT SNEAK UP ON SOMEONE WHO HAS A MURDERER AFTER THEM!'"

He tried to conceal a smirk, "I didn't mean to scare you".

"Sure"

"TJ said that the chicken is good here", Mike said, looking at the menu on the wall.

"It is… for cafeteria food."

"That's a ringing endorsement." He paused as he watched her grab her salad, "So are you eating with anyone?", his eyes dashed around the room of uniform police officers and plain clothes detectives.

She laughed at his boyish manner, "Yeah, you"

They both got their food and searched for a table.

Connie noticed Mike was searching the room again, as they sat down, "Are you looking for someone?"

"Your shadows."

"There're off somewhere else. Since I am in the LAPD headquarters, surround by cops, they're allowing me to wonder the halls by myself", she sounded irritated.

"Freedom", he jested.

She smiled at him and opened her salad.

"I'm not sure how much longer I can take being followed."

He tried to give her a reassuring smile but he did not know what to say.

"How is your mom?", he changed the subject.

"She's got fluid in her lungs and they want to keep her for a night or two. But she is in good spirits."

"That's really good."

Connie nodded in agreement, "I think I am going to stay with her tonight. Dad is on call in the ER so he may not be able to stay the whole night with her."

"I thought that you were trying to keep your space from your family with all of this going on?"

"Yeah, well, my dad is concerned about me. He is committed to seeing me _because_ I have a have a murderer after me, and every time I tell him it's not safe, he says 'that's all the more reason to be with your family'.", she seemed exasperated with her father. "But with mom in the hospital I figured it was best to go see her."

He gave her a genuine smile, "You like being back here, in LA, with your family?"

"Yes…well, for the most part", shifted in her chair, "I'm three thousand more miles closer to my brother's hovering, but it's a fair trade off for my dad's cooking."

"How's your headache?", he turned his concern to Connie.

She gave him a gracious smile, "Much better—it was gone when I woke up again."

He broke out into an impish laughter and joked, "That could be interpreted more than one way."

"I'm talking about the headache", she said, laughing with him.

"I hope you got up alright, it completely slipped my mind to reset the alarm. Morales called and I just thought you could use some more sleep."

"Yeah, I woke up just fine-I needed those extra hours.", Turning back to work, "Any new developments?, she asked.

"Yes, a big one, actually. Mrs. White tells us that her husband thought that Spencer is running some sort of organized crime ring."

She froze, "Seriously?"

"Yes, and considering he is now dead….", Mike let the statement hang, as he took a bite of chicken, "So the question I have is for how long? Did we miss something that big five years ago?"

"That's something pretty big…", she responded, looking contemplative.

After a few moments, Connie observed, "You have that look…"

"What look?"

"That introspective how am I not going to get caught next time look."

His voice went a little high, "What are you talking about?"

"You get this", she gestured towards him, "Outward… ambiance, for lack of a better word, whenever Jack rips you a new one."

He gave a nervous laugh, "I do not, so you cannot tell that."

"Oh yeah. Then why are you suddenly looking guilty?"

He smiled, "It wasn't Jack.", Mike said quickly, conceding to her, "Not even I can piss someone off from across the country."

She froze, again, "Tell me Hardin didn't…."

"No. No, but on that…", Mike paused, "I spoke to Jack this morning and he said the details of our arrangement are floating around the office."

"That's great.", she replied sarcastically and then turned serious, "Tell me you guys have a plan for if or when Hardin does find out."

"Not really, Jack said we'd cross that bridge when-if we get there."

"Wow", she was not impressed, "I'm speechless. You're going to get your ass thrown out-of-town and Jack is going to damage—at the very least—damage an important relationship with a DA in one of the major cities in the country….And your plan is to not have a plan."

"Connie, trust me we've gone over it, but the best worst case plan is to see where the chips fall. If you have any ideas, we're open to suggestions."

She gave him an incredulous laugh, "I shouldn't even know about this."

"You asked."

"I did and I'm glad that you told me."

He smiled, "Talk about mixed signals".

"So, who did you piss off?", Connie asked, trying to veer the conversation back to point.

"Um…", Mike took a second to gather his thoughts, "Lieutenant Gonzales."

She choked on her drink, "Lieutenant Gonzales? What did you do?"

"I might of…well in her words 'bullied a grieving widow'."

"Mrs. White?", Connie asked, not particularly surprised.

"Yes.", Mike could tell Connie wanted further explanation, "Morales and I were interviewing her and she began to shut down so I got hostile with her and showed her a picture of Ms. Malone."

"Mike, if you're anticipating pissing off the DA's office, it may be wise to befriend the LAPD."

"I know.", he said, flatly.

* * *

After they ate, they wondered the halls and talked. Mike did not know where they were going but Connie walked them to a secluded spot.

"About last night…", Connie began, a little nervous, "And this morning_…_ I just wanted to thank you. Not many guys would do that…. I really appreciate it."

He shrugged dismissively, "No problem, I was more than happy to…"

She placed a hand on his forearm, "No, Mike, it means a lot….I was… really upset last night and you... were a complete gentleman."

Mike, placing his hand on top of hers, made her look up at him, "Anytime, Connie_._"

The feeling of his touch sent shivers down her spine. In the few days that he had been in LA, he had changed the way she felt. She could not remember the last time she felt like this, he changed something from the day-to-day drudgery. She knew what it felt like for him to hold her…and she wanted that again. However, Connie had sworn to herself that she would not go down that road again. He was her boss, perhaps not at the moment, but he had been, and the implications of a relationship between them would be the same. Anything between them would compromise her tenure in New York: performance reviews that Mike did as her boss, would be considered as though there was an asterisk next to every thing she accomplished.

Mike broke eye contact with her and the corners of his mouth twisted into a smile, "_Complete_ _gentleman_, huh?" He caught her gaze again, "I was actually afraid that you would be mad at me for some of last night."

"Really…?", she asked, reservedly, "Why… would that be?"

"Well", he shyly replied, "You did tell me to leave you alone a couple of times…. And I…didn't know whether I was crossing the line", his throat went dry, "… by getting into bed with you."

She swallowed and said in a low voice, "I asked you to stay."

He still seemed hesitant, "I know…but…."

"I was vulnerable and not thinking clearly?", she finished his sentence with a mischievous smirk.

He lifted her hand off his arm and enclosed it in his, "Something like that…."

When Connie looked back up at him, he broke into his dimple revealing smile. She was not sure what he was doing. Mike began to pull away, and she thought that he was going to let go of her hand, but he quickly stepped forwards into her personal space.

"So, you are telling me that you knew exactly what you were doing last night when you asked me to stay?", his voice was low and ruff.

It took her a second to process his words. She was too distracted with his breath on the side of her face and his sheer proximity.

"I knew exactly what I was doing last night", she whispered, transfixed

His deep blue eyes seemed to be glowing with desire. She had missed those eyes. His seas of blue seemed to only burn like that when his attentions were turned towards her. In her life, Connie had not been the kernel desire of a man in the way that she saw in his eyes. Sure, men had lusted after her, but Mike had a special fire for her.

Slowly, Mike leaned in and her lips parted in response. He paused, hoping she would close the gap between them. Tilting her head, she thoughtlessly met him. At first, their lips lightly touched, as they both did not seem prepared for the unguarded intimacy. Upon wanting more, Mike closed his mouth to hers and began to kiss Connie more firmly, hoping she would allow him entrance. She immediately let him explore her mouth, as he permitted her entrance as well. He brought his hand up to her the back of her head, and he encircled her waist with his other arm, as he deepened the kiss further. The taste, the feel, of him, Connie could not stop herself. She ran one hand up his arm to the nape of his neck and the other slipped underneath his suit jacket, pulling him closer until their bodies were firmly against each other. Once out of breath, they broke apart. They rested their foreheads together, eyes closed. Neither of them moved from their embrace. Connie's phone began to ring, but she did not move to answer it. Moments passed, they just stood motionless. A loud crashing sound from down the hall brought them back to reality, and they jumped apart. A police officer came around the corner pushing a full cart of boxes and files, and pulling, behind him, another cart of full of various evidence-bagged items. Connie's phone began to ring again, as the officer passed them, and he gave both a curt nod, oblivious to the moment he just interrupted. She quickly grabbed her phone from her purse, which was sitting on a windowsill next to them.

_"Hello."_, she answered turning away from Mike and walking a few steps down the hall.

Neither of them were able to make eye contact with the other. Stepping in the opposite direction, he took a deep breath to gather himself. His mind seemed blank. Connie. He and Connie just kissed. This was not their first, as they had kissed the weekend before she had left New York. However, Mike had assigned that to be the last and only romantic gesture between them because she was leaving, but, now, in LA, he realized that her actions, that night, were more than fleeting emotions caused by her abrupt departure. He turned to look at her; she had her back to him, still talking on the phone. Awkwardly, he stuck his hands into his pants pockets, and walked back to where they were standing. She hung up, but did not immediately turn around to face him. Mike watched her, taking in her movements—he could not read her body language. When she began to turn around, he quickly diverted his gaze. Connie walked back to her purse, next to him, careful not to make eye contact.

"Um…", she began, while digging around in her purse, "That… was Dekker and I have to go."

There was no response.

After gathering her things, she turned around to find his stare fixated on her. His eyes were intense and did not leave hers for a moment.

"Alright, I'll see you later", he finally replied.

Her voice caught in her throat, so she just nodded and walked away.

* * *

_Another A/N: From here on out, I may be posting every two weeks. I'll try to post next weekend, but after that, it will be every other week. Things just got busy, sorry. Next time I write a story, I'm going to have it **completely **written before I publish, so I can post at more regular intervals. _

_Questions, plot holes, __compliments_, or _complaints_, please review. 


	10. Chapter 10

_N/A: __So, I said I would try to get this posted in a week... Clearly, that did not happen, but how about a week and a half (I've never posted during the week before)._

* * *

"It's hard to believe.", Mike said exasperated, eating a fry, "There has been three murders in less than a week, and there is practically no valuable evidence or leads."

"Yeah, he's hiring all of the right people.", TJ agreed, taking a drink.

They had worked all day through the case to no avail. No fingerprints, DNA, or witnesses made for an idle investigation. They were not even allowed to request an alibi from Spencer, because his firm had threatened to sue the city and the LAPD for harassment after their last interview, following the murder of Robert White.

"Clearly, he is—or was looking for something on their computers. Maybe evidence of his crime ring?, Morales said, speaking to himself more than anyone.

Mike responded, "If Malone had evidence or even knew about it, why wouldn't she have told me and Connie when we interviewed her?"

Morales shrugged, "She was scared."

Mike's phone vibrated, it was a text from Connie.

_"Are you guys still working?"_

He quickly replied, _"Well, we're having some burgers at the moment. We're calling it a night."_

He sat his phone on the table, waiting for a reply.

"Someone missing you at home?", TJ asked, trying to seem innocuous.

Mike gave him a small smile, "Not quite, just work."

It buzzed again. Morales shot TJ a dirty look across the table, as Mike read the text.

_"Burgers at 11.…? Anything new?"_

_"No luck. Bunch of dead ends."_, Considering their kiss earlier in the day, he wanted to say something more but could not think of anything to add.

Forty-five minutes later, the three of them finished their meal and conversation and headed to their cars.

"So, what time do we meet back tomorrow?", TJ asked, once they reached their cars.

Morales sighed, "Not too early."

"Agreed", Mike said, tired.

"Well, that settles it.", TJ replied, sarcastically.

"Let's say ten, we can work late again tomorrow, but I need my sleep tonight.", Morales offered.

TJ nodded in agreement and Mike replied, "Sounds good."

TJ's phone broke the chilly night air.

"Tell me that's a wrong number.", Morales jested, despondently.

"Dispatch.", TJ responded, matching his partner's enthusiasm.

"Jaruszalski.", he answered the phone and then there was a pause, "When?" He reached for his car door and gestured for Mike and Morales to get in, "Alright, we're just a few blocks. Yeah, ETA about five.", he hung up and started the car. "There was a 911 call placed from Connie's parents' house—multiple assailants…" he trailed off, as he sharply turned the corner out of the parking lot.

Mike's stomach dropped.

"Patrol on scene?", Morales asked, turning on their lights and sirens.

"No, they're at least ten out. ", TJ ran a stop sign.

"Who made the call?" Mike questioned from the backseat, fearful that it was Connie.

"Don't know—said it was a woman.", he made another sharp turn.

* * *

The trio arrived at the house and jumped out of the car. The detectives drew their weapons.

"Stay in the car!", Morales ordered, but Mike was already trailing him.

The front door was open. TJ and Morales got on either side, Mike was behind the latter, and Morales nodded for TJ to enter. Mike could not think, his heart pounding through his chest, afraid of what they would find. TJ silently stepped in the open door, closely followed by Morales and Mike. The whole house was dark except for a dim light to the right, which they approached.

"STAY DOWN YOU BASTARD!", woman's voice boomed from the lit room, followed by a thud.

"LAPD!", TJ announced, as they swung around the corner.

The woman had a baseball bat angled down at a motionless man lying on the ground.

"Drop the bat, ma'ma.", Morales directed, as he and TJ approached them, with their guns at the ready.

She quickly dropped the bat and stumbled backwards until she hit a wall.

TJ and Morales turned their attention towards the rest of the situation.

"Got this?", TJ whispered to Morales.

"Yeah, go."

TJ pulled his flashlight out and went to search the rest of the house. Morales bent down to check the unconscious man's pulse, as he used his phone to call for paramedics.

"Are you alright?", he turned his head towards the woman.

She did not reply but stared at the detective, clearly shaking. Mike, regaining his function, slowly stepped into the ransacked room and approached her.

He bent down a couple of feet from her, "Are you alright?", Mike asked, in a soft voice.

It was evident she was not. She was covered in blood, cradling her arm, with a busted lip.

Mike tried again, "Maria", he assumed she was Connie's sister, "Are you alright?"

She turned to him at the mention of her name, "There were three of them", her voice was low and unsteady.

Mike and Morales exchanged looks. The detective pulled out his phone to text his partner.

Lights and sirens soon filled the air, as backup arrived.

"I'll take her outside?", Mike suggested.

"Yeah, the ambulance should be getting here. Let her sit in the backseat until they get here", Morales concurred.

Several uniform police officers flooded the house.

"Maria, let's go outside."

It took her a moment to process what he said, with the influx of strangers in her parents' home. She nodded her head and began to pick herself up off the ground. She struggled, as her legs were too shaky to support her. Mike put his arms around her and pulled her to her feet.

"Alright?"

"Yeah, I'm f-", she took a sharp breath in pain.

He got a better look at her arm, as she stood in front of him. It had a large gash and bled freely.

"Morales, are you guys going to throw a fit, if I grab a towel?", Mike asked, referring to a basket of towels, behind the detective, that were tossed in the fight.

"No, that's not a problem.", Morales took a few steps backwards through the wrecked room, grabbed a towel and handed it to Mike.

Maria observed them but did not speak.

"This is probably going to sting.", Mike warned, before wrapping the towel around her arm. "Okay?"

She nodded and winced at the raw pain the towel caused.

He began to lead her out of the house.

"I'll call Connie", Morales whispered, in Mike's ear.

He nodded and continued to help Maria out of the house.

Mike steered her to TJ and Morales' unmarked car, careful that neither of them tripped in the dark, and sat her down in the back seat.

"The ambulance should be here any time."

"Okay", she shakily nodded her head

Mike removed his suit jacket and draped it over shoulders.

She accepted the gesture but did not acknowledge it.

Mike squatted down at the open door and waited with her. Keeping a little distance from the car and positioning himself looking outward, he tried to give Maria her space. Through the dim backseat light and the flashing red and blue police lights, he could see her wince in pain. A mixed feeling of relief and guilt washed over him. Anxiety had overtook him when he thought Connie was the one being attacked, but, now, his elation did not feel right, with her sister brutally beaten. It was several more minutes, before the ambulances arrived.

An officer directed two paramedics to them and the others to the unconscious man in the house.

Mike stepped back to give them room.

After a quick glance at Maria's injuries one of the paramedics asked, "Miss, can you walk?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, we would like for you to come with us."

The paramedics helped her get out of the car and over to their ambulance. Mike hovered in the distance for a couple of minutes to make sure they were taking care of her, before noticing TJ and Morales on the front step.

"How is she?", Morales asked, as a solemn Mike approached.

"Uh…they're still looking her over, but they think she has some fractures, a possible concussion and she'll need several stitches."

"She certainly did a number on our guy in there. They say some of his bones are broken and he has a fractured skull", TJ stated.

"What do we have?", Lieutenant Gonzales questioned, as she walked up from behind Mike.

"Unidentified perp broken, wrecked the place, it looks like Maria Rubirosa, Connie's sister …", Morales gestured towards the ambulance, "interrupted them in the act. They fought….", trailed off, as the paramedics wheeled the man pass them on a gurney.

"And she walked out", TJ finished, clearly impressed.

Gonzales nodded in agreement, "Them? More than one?"

"Yeah, that what she said. At least three.", Morales answered.

"Uhh….", TJ breathed, pointing towards the direction of the ambulance. Connie and two men were rushing towards Maria. The paramedics appeared to be readying her to leave.

"Detective," the lieutenant turned to her detectives, "Morales, why don't you give the Rubirosas a ride to the hospital. Jaruszalski, you, and Mr. Cutter, and I will finish up here."

* * *

**The Hospital:**

"How is she?" the lieutenant asked, approaching Morales in ER.

"A concussion, fractured forearm, and several stitches", Morales answered.

"Can we talk to her?"

"The doctor hasn't said yet."

Connie's step-father and brother rounded the corner and approached them.

Morales introduced the two men, "Dr. Jose Cruz, Mr. Carlos Rubirosa, this is Lieutenant Gonzales, Detective Thomas Jaruszalski, and Mike Cutter."

The lieutenant shook their hands, "How is your daughter, Dr. Cruz?"

"We are going to keep her overnight but she'll be alright. Her sister is with now."

"That's good to hear."

"What about the guys who did this—have you caught them?", the younger man interrupted.

"We have the man that your sister... subdued in custody, but we are still looking for the persons who were with him", Gonzales tried to speak calmly because Connie's brother was visibly upset.

"Yeah, the guy my sister caught", Carols became indignant", You're supposed to be protecting Connie and this happens to Maria. They could have killed her!"

"Carlos," Connie came from behind them, and pulled her brother back, "Don't. They're doing the best they can."

"Then that's not very comforting."

Jose put a hand on his son's shoulder to help quell him, "Lieutenant, is there anything we can do to help?"

"Right now, we just need to ask you a few questions…. And after forensics is done processing your house, probably sometime tomorrow, we'll need you to walk us through to see if anything is missing", Gonzales sympathetically looked between the family, "And, Dr. Cruz, with your home a crime scene, you won't be able to stay there, is there anywhere you can stay tonight?"

"Here", he replied, putting an arm around Connie, "My wife is up stairs and my daughter is down the hall, I would be staying here anyway".

She nodded in response.

"Mr. Rubirosa," TJ asked, "Would you like to come with me to grab everyone some coffee, I would like to ask you a few questions?"

Carlos took a deep breath, "Sure"

Once they were out of earshot Connie apologized, "I'm sorry about that, Lieutenant, he's just protective".

"There's no need. It's completely understandable."

"But there is", Jose insisted.

Connie made eye contact with Mike. He looked a mixture of tried and worried.

"Sir, if you would, I also have few questions", Morales gestured for him and Connie's father to take a walk down the hall.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?", he turned to Connie, who was still in his protective arm.

"Yeah, go", she tried to sound better than she was.

He gave her a kiss on her head before heading down the hall with Morales.

"Connie", Gonzales took a step closer, "I am sorry about this".

"We both know there was nothing you guys could've done to prevent this."

She nodded, "How is your sister?"

"Strong, but not well. The concussion is pretty bad, they've got her drugged out for the pain….", Connie knew what the police lieutenant's next question would be, "The doctors aren't letting her have visitors outside of family and she won't be helpful until she gets off of some of those meds".

Before Gonzales could respond, her phone rang, "Alright," she told Connie, as she put a comforting hand on her shoulder, "We're doing everything thing we can to get these bastards".

Connie nodded and the lieutenant walked off to answer her phone.

She stood there with Mike.

They instinctively stepped in closer to the other.

"Nice jacket", Connie said, interrupting his thoughts.

He looked down at the windbreaker that TJ had given him—it was dark blue with large yellow letters: LAPD on the back and smaller letters on the left breast.

"Yeah, well, I paid good money for it"

She did not smile at his attempt at humor, "I'm afraid, I have to tell you that yours is going into evidence—you'll probably never see it again."

"That's alright...", Mike noticed her exhaustion, "Do you want to sit down?"

Connie nodded in reply. She took a glance at her father talking with Morales, before walking around the corner in the opposite direction. Her security detail stopped at the entrance of the adjoining hall. It had numerous windows that looked over the hospital's night fallen parking lots. They found a couple of empty chairs half way down the long corridor.

They sat in silence for several moments, staring into space, in the dimly lit hallway. Connie looked passive but, Mike could tell by her shaking hands, she was trying to suppress her emotions. He reached over and placed his hand over hers. She did not respond to him and after a moment, fearing that she did not want his consolation, he pulled back. She slightly turned her head, in his direction, when he retracted, but she did not move to stop him.

"I can't believe this happened…", Connie began in a low voice, "They could have killed her."

Mike still tried to comfort her, "But they didn't, Connie."

"They could have", Connie said, defiantly. So soon after the attack, he knew nothing he said would make her not blame herself, therefore he did not argue.

They sat motionless and silence overtook them again.

After a few minutes, Connie slowly reached over and grabbed Mike's hand, which was sitting on his chair's armrest. He was surprised but grasped her hand in return. She interlaced their fingers. Connie knew she should be keeping her interactions with Mike strictly professional, but, after what just happened, she needed his support.

Footsteps coming down the hall caused them to drop the other's hand.

They turned and saw Connie's father approaching them. Both stood, hoping he had not seen them.

"We're moving Maria in with your mother", Jose said, looking oblivious to the two.

"Really?"

"Yeah. And I got someone to cover for me in to ER tonight, so I can stay with them", he paused, "You can go home and get some rest."

"Um…are you sure? I can stay too."

"Hun, I'd love for you to but the detectives are saying this isn't the safest place for you right now, they want you in a more controlled environment."

She sighed, "Okay…."

"And I don't guess you have changed your mind about staying at a hotel?"

"Is there something they didn't tell you?"

"Carlos and I were pressing them for how they were going to protect you... but that is beside the point."

"Dad, I don't want to give in to these people, and leaving my apartment to hide is."

"They just attacked your sister in _our_ home; your apartment is not anymore safe", Jose tried to reason.

She took a frustrated step back and turned to look out the window.

Mike spoke up, "Connie, there's a fine line between wanting to show you're not afraid, and exposing yourself to be a vulnerable target."

Jose nodded in agreement.

She shot Mike a hard look. The last thing she needed was them ganging up on her.

"She's not the only vulnerable target, Mr. Cutter", Lt. Gonzales stated, as a matter of fact, walking up to them with Morales and TJ in tow.

TJ held up his phone to Mike, "These are copies of pictures, just pulled off our unconscious guy's phone, of you."

Connie came up besides Mike to look at the pictures.

"These are all from since I've been here in LA", Mike said, skipping through the photos.

"Looks like it, and that includes some of you at your hotel….", Morales paused to let him process, "So, we would also like to put you up in a hotel—a different hotel and also put you in protective custody".

Mike thought for a moment and nodded, "Okay". He hoped that Connie would follow suit.

"Connie", Morales turned to her, "Would you _please_ reconsider and let us also put you in a hotel".

She looked over at her father and Mike, their eyes were pleading for her to acquiesce. Connie's eyes drifted down to Mike's shirt, where her sister's blood was prominent. How could she argue.

* * *

_A/N: I personally like writing Connie's family. I feel that, in general, families are not shown enough when a character's life is being threatened (that is assuming they know about said threat), and are merely used (in passing) as a device to shallowly advance the character (as I have done, with Connie's dad worried phone calls and such, until now), but I don't like it when that is the extent of the family's involvement so we will be seeing more of them. I think a family would be a little involved-Connie is still her father's little girl and her brother's little sister. (That penultimate sentence was probably a run-on, but it is too late for me to care!) *climbs off soapbox* _

___It will probably be biweekly (WHY is the definition of this word "happening twice a week or every other week"?! I'm using it for the latter.) postings here on out. But, I really want to post more often so I am trying! However, I am busy (I know, I know, aren't we all)! _

___Thank you everyone for all of the kind reviews! They are appreciated! _


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